Reckoning
by TeamSalvatore
Summary: Somewhere in the DBZ universe is a forgotten future, a future that never was... But it did happen. It was real. This is the story from the eyes of its only survivors: Bulma, Gohan, and, eventually, Trunks. Rated M for a reason.
1. Prologue

**A/N:** I'll be taking some creative liberties when I write this, which means I won't follow the History of Trunks movie too closely, if at all. I will, however, be incorporating everything that Mirai Trunks shared with Goku in the series, which means you're going to see my spin on how everyone died, as well as how Gohan survived the Android battle and the events that led up to Gohan's death. Main characters here are Gohan and Bulma (mostly Gohan), and almost all chapters will focus on their character development and how they cope without the rest of the Z-fighters. I'm writing from both Gohan and Bulma's POVs, because I write more freely in first-person narrative. I hope you enjoy it. I'm very excited to tell this story, and I can promise you this: I'm in this for the long run.

**DISCLAIMER:** This story contains disturbing content, including but not limited to: detailed character deaths, sexual situations, extreme violence, and drug interactions. Please don't read if you feel you cannot handle these things. Now, on a less serious, but equally important, note: I claim no rights to Dragonball Z and am not affiliated with its creators in any way. But that should be fairly obvious. After all, if I did own DBZ, Gohan would be totally bad ass. Great Saiyaman is NOT bad ass, IMO.

***

**PROLOGUE**

_Today is my judgment day._

_The day I have been avoiding for the past thirteen years. Avoiding, but never forgetting. I always knew it would come. It comes for everyone. And everyone succumbs to it, everyone gives in, one way, or another…_

_My father gave in. _

_She always said I was stronger than him, because _I_ would never give in, _I _would never stop fighting. She was right about one thing--I never stopped fighting. But everybody succumbs. Everybody falls. I know this better than anyone, and I have been haunted by it since I was eight years old._

_The numbness is setting in now._

_It is a strange yet familiar sensation swimming through my body. There are bright lights flashing all around me, and I can no longer comprehend what they are or where they are coming from. My thoughts begin to stray and become more distant, and I feel as if I'm outside of myself, watching my body morph into something broken, unrecognizable, as ugly on the outside as I have felt on the inside for so, so long…_

_I think of my little brother and find solace knowing he is safe. If I could talk to him now, I know what I would say: Keep training, Lil' Bro. Keep getting stronger. Someday you will destroy them, but not now. You're not ready, not yet. You're not…_

_My vision is darkening, and yet everything seems so clear to me now. My day is coming._

_It comes for everyone._


	2. Heartache

**CHAPTER 1: HEARTACHE**

After everything we had been through, I never imagined it would end that way.

Things were not looking too good for us--the only people who stood a chance against Frieza at the time were Vegeta or Piccolo, and if history was any indication of how those battles would turn out… well, I didn't even want to think about it.

I looked over at Krillin--his body was shaking and convulsing, from terror, or anticipation. Maybe both. His eyes met mine and I knew we were thinking the same thing: nobody there could beat Frieza. We didn't stand a chance. And even if we did manage to get past Frieza, there was another chi presence on that ship--an unfamiliar and powerful chi presence. More powerful than Frieza, which is something I never thought possible until my dad transformed into a Super Saiyan back on Namek.

Back on Namek, Frieza was the one who didn't stand a chance. How quickly the tables had turned on us. Nobody there was stupid enough to think they were getting out of there alive--not without my dad. I couldn't help myself as tears threatened to penetrate the steady resolve etched into my face. I was trying to be brave, for all of them. But I had never been more scared. And I had never wanted to see my dad more than I did in that moment. Up until that point, at least.

We couldn't see Frieza's ship from our standing point, but I knew he was there. I could feel him. It was a feeling that inspired hatred and disgust within me, the likes of which I never thought I was capable of feeling. His energy signal began moving closer to us… Frieza was on the move.

I took a long, sweeping look at my surroundings. Somehow, everyone was gathered there--even Bulma. I glared at the back of Yamcha's head, hoping he would turn around to meet my angry gaze. He was such an idiot for bringing her there.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and I looked up to see Piccolo staring down at me. His face wore the same stony resolve as mine, but he smiled reassuringly at me and nodded his head. I knew that nod; it meant we were in it together. Piccolo taught me what it means to never go down without a fight, and if it was going to be a fight to the finish, I knew he was going to be there with me until the very end. And he was.

Finally, someone spoke up. It was Tien.

"I'd feel a whole lot better about this if there wasn't another guy on that ship that feels just as strong as Frieza… if not more."

Vegeta began chuckling, though it hardly concealed his anxiety. "That's Frieza's father, King Cold. And you're right--he's twice as strong as his son. I'd like to see how Kakkarot would have fared against _him_."

A collective gasp swept through the area at Vegeta's words, and everyone looked more worried, as if that was even possible. _Twice _as strong as Frieza? My mind couldn't even wrap itself around that idea.

Frieza's energy signal suddenly jumped--it felt like he was directly above us. It only took a moment for me to realize that he _was _directly above us, levitating mid-air with a grotesque, monstrously large being at his side. King Cold.

"Hello Earthlings," said Frieza, and he gathered his lips into a cruel smirk. He regarded Vegeta and I a little differently. "And hello, monkeys," he said with a deliberate sneer.

Frieza landed, flanked by his father. "Haven't I killed half of you weaklings before?" he asked, turning to King Cold with an incredulous expression. "These humans are like chickens, father! You can cut off their heads, but they still manage to run around in circles!"

King Cold acknowledged his son's words with a curt nod. He looked positively bored. "Just get on with it, son, before this Goku fellow gets here," he drawled.

My whole body tensed up at King Cold's words, and a surge of adrenaline rushed through me. "What are you talking about?" I yelled, as Piccolo attempted to keep me quiet. "What have you done with my father?"

Frieza grinned evilly. "Nothing! Not yet. But when I'm through destroying this pathetic planet, he is certainly going to regret what he did to me."

For the first time, I noticed that a good portion of Frieza's natural body was gone, replaced by steel plates and mechanical limbs. Then I realized: my father reduced one of the most feared beings in the universe to pieces. Frieza was literally half of his former self. I couldn't help it as the corners of my mouth curved into a proud smile.

Frieza did not like that very much. "What are you smiling about, you disgusting halfling? You'll be the first to go."

He lifted up his finger and Piccolo dipped into a fighting stance at my side, ready to deflect whatever blast Frieza had planned for me. But the evil lizard never had a chance to show me, because a foot came out of nowhere, slammed into his cheek, and sent him crashing into a nearby hillside. The hill crumbled from the impact, but Frieza picked himself out of the rubble with relative ease. The blow clearly wasn't meant to debilitate him for long.

I scanned my surroundings to see who had the nerve to attack Frieza like that, but I already knew. Even before I felt his energy signal, I knew he was there. I knew from the overwhelming feeling of security that enveloped my body the second he was within range. There was only one person in the world whose mere presence could have that effect on me.

"DADDY!"

The others were just as overjoyed as I was--save Vegeta, of course. "GOKU!" they exclaimed happily, gathering around him, praising him, thanking Kami he was there and wondering if he might be some sort of fear-induced hallucination. My dad knelt down to meet me in a giant hug, and I had never been happier. _My life can go back to normal again!_ That is the only thing I was thinking when I saw his face.

Suddenly I realized that Frieza and King Cold were watching us. Frieza looked shocked. No, petrified. He knew he was a goner.

"Y-you! Monkey! H-how did you get here so fast? My ship is a thousand times faster than yours and we passed you hours ago!" he asked in disbelief, his raspy voice noticeably shaking.

My dad let go of me, turned to Frieza, and smirked. "Well, let's just say I picked up a lot of new tricks in space. And some pretty sweet threads, if you hadn't noticed." He indicated the bizarre outfit he was wearing and I heard Bulma mutter something sarcastically about his lack of fashion sense.

My father turned back to me and the others with a serious expression. "Get away from here. Frieza and I have some unfinished business," he said sternly. At his words, Yamcha grabbed Bulma, flew about 500 yards away, and landed; he seemed overjoyed to get away from Frieza and King Cold. The others followed promptly, myself included. Vegeta was the only one who stayed behind.

"I take commands from no one!" Vegeta said stubbornly. My father just shrugged. "Suit yourself," he replied. "You can jump in if I need help." He grinned, knowing full well that his comment would get on Vegeta's nerves.

Vegeta scoffed and reacted just as my father probably predicted: he powered up and lunged at Frieza, delivering a swift kick to the tyrant's side and sending him flying into his own father. King Cold seemed very perturbed that he was suddenly involved in the conflict.

My dad had a huge smirk on his face, and I got the feeling he probably found the predicament as appealing as an all-you-can-eat buffet. He went for King Cold while Vegeta was preoccupied with Frieza--the two were throwing punches and kicks back and forth, but Vegeta was doing a lot better than he did on Namek. He had been training a lot in the past few years.

Suddenly, Frieza released a gigantic energy blast, and it hit Vegeta dead on. He crashed into a nearby rock mound and was out cold. His guard was down--something distracted him, and I saw it all happen. During their battle, Frieza and Vegeta had gotten dangerously close to Bulma and Yamcha's hiding place, and Bulma had made a run for it--right into the middle of the fray. She would have been killed if not for Veget's actions. It seemed almost as if he was trying to save her…

The thought was fleeting. I refocused on my father's battle almost immediately.

My dad didn't seem too pleased with Frieza's attack, and checked to make sure Vegeta was okay before returning to his battle. Father's actions propelled my thoughts back to Vegeta's death on Namek, and how much Frieza's evil, heartless nature had angered him. There was no reason for my dad to react the way he did when Vegeta died--they were supposed to be sworn enemies, yet he promised to avenge Vegeta's death despite their rivalry. Dad had always been like that, though. He was cursed with immense power and the duty to protect the Earth, but if he could have had it his way, he would have made peace with everyone and chosen to never hurt a fly again. He even let Frieza live. I had a feeling he wasn't going to do it a second time.

I returned my attention to the battle at hand. Now it was two against one, with the odds in Frieza and King Cold's favor. But my father did not look worried. He was standing a few yards in front of the father-son duo, trying one final time to reason with them. My dad's compassion was his greatest strength, and his greatest weakness.

"I spared you on Namek, Frieza. I won't do it again. If you agree to leave this planet and stop terrifying the universe, however, I might reconsider," my dad said, fully expecting Frieza and King Cold to deny his offer. But, he had to ask.

"Ha! If you think you're getting out of your own death that easily, you are sadly mistaken, monkey!" Frieza retorted.

My father closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "If that's how you want it," he said. I watched him through squinted eyes as he did something strange and lifted his middle and index fingers to his forehead. Suddenly, he was gone. I had never seen anybody move so fast in my life. My father never ceased to amaze me.

He reappeared behind King Cold and released the kamehameha of the century. Frieza watched, wide-eyed, as his father disintegrated into nothingness. Then my dad turned to Frieza, who was shocked still.

"People like you will never learn," my father said, raising his palm to Frieza's face. At least he finally realized that some people just aren't worth sparing, I thought morbidly.

With that, my father released another powerful blast and I felt Frieza's energy signal fade away completely. I breathed a deep sigh of relief, as did the others. We were safe. For the moment, at least.

Father cracked his knuckles and craned his neck. I was completely thunderstruck at how easily he defeated Frieza and King Cold. The rest of the group was scattered along the rim of the newly-paved battlefield, and they looked equally shocked. Father was oblivious to our wonder as he turned to us and said, "So, guys. What's for lunch?"

My dad: eternally ignorant.

***

I have never seen my mother's emotions conflict as drastically as they did the day my father returned home. I stayed in my room to avoid the fray, though the pitch of my mother's voice as she scolded him ensured that even our neighbors twenty miles west could hear the confrontation.

I understood why she was so upset, in a way my dad never could. He hadn't seen her cry herself to sleep every night in the several months that followed his absence. In my opinion, Father had chosen to stay away for so much longer than seemed necessary, though the instant transmission technique he picked up was tremendously impressive.

I had only a vague understanding of love, but I knew my parents loved each other, and whenever my mom was mad at my dad, I just reminded myself that her emotions were driven by that love. She was born to worry, and she worried about her family to an almost unhealthy extent. I knew from my studies that stress could literally kill a person, and Mom was the prime candidate for such a fate. But in the end, it wasn't the constant worrying that killed her.

It took nearly three weeks for my family to re-adjust to the idea of having Father around again, and things began to look (and feel) more normal every day. One night, on the third week, I woke up with a start to my father shaking me gently from my sleep.

"Hey Gohan," he said, and I could barely make out a grin in the dimly lit room.

"Dad, what time is it?" I asked, half-awake.

"I was wondering if you'd like to have a little late night spar with me? I want to see how good you've gotten since I've been away."

I jumped at the opportunity, instantly alert. I smiled up at my dad and quickly scrambled to put on my training gi, which my mother had tried desperately to throw out on more than one occasion.

I followed Father wordlessly as he leapt from my window and flew up into the dark night. The only thing I could see of him as I flew behind was his bright chi aura, which acted like a beacon lighting my way to the training grounds. We reached the spot in minutes, remaining silent the entire flight over.

Dad landed first, in a small clearing in the middle of the forest surrounding our home. I knew this spot well; I had spent hours exploring the forest in the months he was away.

Moments later, we stood opposite the clearing in our fighting stances, ready to strike. Father's gaze was locked on mine, and though his brows were furrowed in concentration, he still wore that familiar grin of his.

"Ready, son?" he asked, and I set my jaw, determined to get at least one jab in. I reminded myself that I was fighting one of the strongest people in the universe, and under normal circumstances, making contact with his skin would be entirely impossible. But he was my dad, so I knew he'd go easy on me. He always did.

I flew at him first (Father always preferred his opponent to make the first move), and the first ten minutes were spent with him on the defensive, effortlessly blocking every jab and kick I tried to send his way. The thrill of the fight began to overtake me, and adrenaline pumped through me, faster and faster by the minute.

Father looked surprised at how drastically I had improved. "Who taught you all these new moves, Gohan?" he asked, impressed.

"Piccolo-san, of course," I said, throwing another punch at him. I was sure this one would connect; he was completely off-guard.

My fist would have hit him, too, if I hadn't stopped myself mid-punch. I realized almost too late that Father wasn't just letting his guard down; he was tired. He was breathing rapidly, despite his motionless state, and he fell to his knees on the ground, exhausted.

"Father?" I asked, troubled at his reaction. We sparred for only fifteen minutes, and he was reacting as if we'd been at it for hours.

My dad managed to chuckle, though he was still struggling to catch his breath.

"Don't worry, G-Gohan! I guess I'm out of shape," he said, waving off my concern. I almost let myself believe him, but then an alarming thing happened: he keeled over again, this time with a cry of pain. He was clutching his chest as though the pain was radiating from him heart.

I rushed to his side immediately, slung his arm around my shoulder, and offered to fly him home.

"I think you're getting sick, Dad," I said, my brows knitted tightly together in concern. He initially objected to my help, but after trying unsuccessfully to fly on his own, I was forced to carry him.

Our flight was silent, though it was not the same silence we shared on our way to the sparring grounds. This silence was fraught with worry and tension, broken occasionally by my father's loud, ragged breathing.

When we arrived home, I asked my father if there was anything else I could do for him. He told me not to worry about him, and dismissed me as if there was nothing wrong.

"I'll be fine, son. Now get to bed before your mother finds out I kidnapped you." He patted me on the head and gave me a forced half-grin. His jaw was shaking with tension, as if he were biting back the pain. Reluctantly, I returned to my bedroom.

I would have stayed by his side every second from then on if I had known what was coming.

***

**A/N: **So, that concludes chapter one. I hope you are enjoying it so far. This fic can be short and straightforward, or it can be more of a long-term, developed story with interwoven subplots. I'm really flexible, and its length depends on how the readers receive & review it. So, feedback is necessary for me to decide how long this story is going to be. There's a lot I can do, and plan to do, and lots of different directions I want to take it in… but I need your input. So R&R please! Thanks for reading.


	3. Intuition

**CHAPTER TWO: INTUITION**

"What did you use to marinate this with? Soil would have been a better alternative."

I rolled my eyes. Vegeta certainly knew how to compliment a girl.

"Oh, I'm sorry, is my inferior cooking causing discomfort to you, your highness? If you'd rather starve, that can certainly be arranged," I snapped, half-amused. Yamcha gave me a horrified look from across the table, and I chuckled to myself. He really didn't understand the relationship I had with Vegeta.

The arrogant Saiyan bastard shot me a death glare, but continued eating nonetheless.

"That's what I thought," I said smugly. Yamcha relaxed a little. He must have thought my sarcasm would turn Vegeta homicidal, but I knew from experience that it took a heck of a lot more than that to truly provoke the surly Saiyan prince.

"It's such a nice day!" I said breezily, glancing around the table at my houseguests. It was only Yamcha, Puar, and Vegeta, but it was more company than I was used to. Vegeta had just returned empty-handed from his escapade in space earlier that day, and I'd forced him to wear the most ridiculous outfit I could find to get him back for stealing my father's ship. He actually pulled off pink better than any human man I'd ever seen, but I kept that opinion to myself. I really didn't mind letting Vegeta stay with me again, just as long as he promised not to kill anyone. So far, he was holding up his end of the bargain.

"So, Vegeta, did you find out anything concerning Goku's whereabouts, or was your trip a complete failure?" I asked. Yamcha gaped at me again for my bold words.

"That fool is too afraid to face me. He evaded discovery very well," Vegeta said, taking another large bite from his drumstick, and ignoring my pointed criticism.

I scoffed. "Trust me, V, he's not afraid. _Especially_ not of you."

"Did you just call him V?" Yamcha asked, puzzled, and looking increasingly afraid for my safety. This was fun.

Vegeta paid no attention to Yamcha or the playful nickname I'd invented when he replied to me. "Kakkarot has every reason to be afraid of me. What makes you think otherwise, _Bulma_?" he growled, and I knew I was entering dangerous territory. He only called me by name when he was _really _agitated. Oh, how I had missed our banter while he was away.

"Well, you have to be a Super Saiyan to defeat Goku. I'm pretty sure that if you'd actually ascended to that level, you'd be rubbing it in all of our faces. Since you're not, that means you probably haven't reach that level yet," I said. "In laymen's terms, Goku could kick your ass, and you know it."

I glanced over at Yamcha, and his entire body was tense. He must have been expecting a fight with Vegeta at any second. It was cute, really; his willingness to protect me. Not that Yamcha could get in Vegeta's way if he decided to attack.

The cocky prince turned beet red, and I knew he was close to boiling over at any second. Suddenly, his attention on our argument completely dissipated, and his head shot upwards, focusing on some invisible point in the sky.

"Woah, do you guys feel that? That power, it's huge! Is that Goku?" Yamcha said, also distracted. I looked in the same direction as they were. I didn't have the ability to sense chi, but I definitely had a bad feeling about this. Something told me it wasn't Goku out there.

"It can't be!" Vegeta yelled, suddenly infuriated. "That imbecile! I knew he was too weak to finish the job." His head whipped around and he glared furiously at me and Yamcha.

"Your precious little Kakkarot has sealed our fates. It's _Frieza_."

***

Less than an hour later I found myself standing out in the middle of the desert, staring at Frieza's disfigured visage as Gohan boldly faced the monstrous tyrant. I had never seen Frieza back on Namek, and I'm glad I didn't. He looked even more sinister than I imagined, now that he had been crippled and disfigured during his battle with Goku, and half of his body had been replaced by artificial limbs.

"Oh Kami, what are we going to do?" I whispered to Yamcha. I was especially worried about Gohan—he may have inherited Goku's looks and strength, but he had Chi-Chi's hotheadedness.

"I don't know about you, but I was thinking we could take one of your dad's ships and get the hell off this doomed planet. What do you think?" Yamcha asked me. I scowled at his cowardice; I would never desert my friends like that, even if there was nothing I could do to help. And this was certainly a helpless situation. I shot a side-glance at Vegeta and noticed that fear and tension was practically oozing from his body. If even the strongest and proudest amongst us was shaking in his boots… well, Yamcha was right about one thing. We _were _doomed.

Suddenly, I saw Frieza raise his finger, preparing some sort of attack for little Gohan. I yelped in alarm, and Yamcha clamped a sweaty, calloused hand over my mouth to keep me quiet.

It happened way too fast for my untrained eyes to catch, but as soon as Frieza poised himself to attack Gohan, he was gone, kicked aside like a rag doll by some invisible force.

Perhaps I was dazed by his sudden appearance, because I was the last one to react when Goku arrived on the scene. The others gathered about him, screaming his name ecstatically, but I stayed where I was—about two feet to Vegeta's left.

I couldn't believe that Goku was here, at last! I felt unimaginably relieved, and yet… I couldn't quite shake this feeling of dread that crept up my spine the moment I saw his grinning face. Call it woman's intuition—I just knew that something wasn't right.

I didn't have much time to dwell on my peculiar feelings; things were happening very fast. I saw Gohan jump into his father's arms and my heart swelled at the touching scene as father and son reunited at last. Then Goku addressed a very startled Frieza, and I heard him say something about his "sweet threads." I had to roll my eyes.

"You never did have much of a fashion sense, Goku," I muttered, though I don't think he heard me.

The wide grin on my old friend's face quickly dissipated, and his manner became stern, concentrated. I had always admired the way Goku retained his boyish innocence throughout his life, but when he became serious like that, I could see years of battle carnage reflected in his eyes.

"Get away from here. Frieza and I have some unfinished business," Goku said. Yamcha didn't need to be told twice—he clamped his hand around my arm and forcefully dragged me through the air across the desert until we were well out of range.

Predictably, Vegeta was the only one who didn't run for cover when Goku dismissed us. Instead, the hotheaded prince attempted to take on Frieza by himself. He jumped into the battle without hesitation. You had to give it to the guy—he was definitely brave. Or stubborn. Or _stupid_. Maybe all three.

I glanced at Yamcha, and his eyes were darting around the battlefield, inexplicably following Vegeta and Goku's movements to the best of his ability. I sighed. Being powerless in these situations was so frustrating; I couldn't even _see _the fight. I reminded myself to just stay home next time.

I kept my eyes trained on the area where I thought Vegeta and Frieza were fighting, since I was more worried about him than Goku's battle with King Cold. I didn't stop to think at the time _why_ I was worried about Vegeta—everything was happening so fast that I didn't really stop to think at all.

"Holy _fuck_!" I heard Yamcha scream suddenly, and it didn't take me long to pinpoint the reason for his alarm. Frieza and Vegeta's battle had come to a grinding halt—directly in front of us. I could have reached out and touched Vegeta's shoulder, he was so close. Frieza was about five feet away from Yamcha, who stood frozen in place, a pathetically fearful look on his face.

"You've improved, monkey boy, but it won't save you. I think I will enjoy killing you a second time," Frieza said. He didn't seem to notice me or Yamcha, for which I was thankful.

Vegeta grit his teeth in response to Frieza's taunting words. He looked a little beaten up—the pink shirt I'd given him was torn and his lip was bleeding, but he didn't look _too_ bad.

"Don't be so sure. You're only half the threat you used to be, Frieza," Vegeta spat, mocking the tyrant's disfigurement from his battle with Goku on Namek. Frieza narrowed his eyes, ready to strike again. Then something happened that chilled me to the bone; the monstrous creature made eye contact with me. I cowered behind Vegeta as Frieza grinned evilly.

"If I didn't know better, Vegeta," he drawled, "I'd say you're trying to shield that pathetic human woman behind you, am I right?"

Vegeta didn't turn around, though his body visibly tensed. I could practically hear his teeth grinding together. "Woman, get the _fuck _out of here," he said as quietly as his voice would allow so that only I could hear him. Then he spoke more loudly, this time addressing Frieza.

"You can kill the bitch if you like," he said. "She is only in my way."

Frieza's grin grew wider. He must have been a powerfully intelligent brute, because he diagnosed Vegeta's bluff with ease. "I suppose there is only one way to find out," he said as a tiny ball of energy began to form in his left hand.

I looked over at Yamcha, who was backing up and staring fearfully at Frieza as he prepared to attack me. I didn't have time to wallow in my own boyfriend's cowardice; my fight-or-flight response kicked in, and I _flew_. I kicked off my high heels as I ran for it, cursing myself for wearing them in the first place. The ground was covered in tiny pebbles and rocks, which dug mercilessly into the bottom of my feet. I wanted to cry, but I was focusing every ounce of energy on getting away from Frieza.

If I hadn't heard the unmistakably deafening crack of bones breaking, I would have never stopped running. I tried to stop myself immediately, but I had built up so much inertia from running that I stumbled forward and almost did a full summersault before finally coming to a halt. I groaned as I pushed myself up on my elbows and rose shakily to my feet, surveying the scene before me.

Frieza was standing triumphantly beside the limp and beaten body of a very unconscious Vegeta. I could tell by the unnaturally crooked way Vegeta's arm was slung over his waist that it was broken, and I shuddered at the sight. Yamcha was by my side in seconds.

"You okay, B?" he asked, though he could tell by my appearance that I was nothing more than scratched up.

"I'm fine! What happened to Vegeta?" I said, glancing over at his limp body once more. I saw Goku kneeling beside him, checking to make sure he was okay, and I saw relief in his face. At least Vegeta was alive.

Yamcha scowled over in the same direction as he replied, "Vegeta got in Frieza's way before he could attack you. Then Frieza grabbed his arm and threw him into that hill over there, and sent an energy blast his way just to finish the job off, I guess. That bastard is lucky he's still alive."

"That bastard just saved my life, which is more than I can say for you!" I said, poking Yamcha's chest to emphasize my point. He looked slightly taken aback and insulted.

"Did you just defend that asshole? Need I remind you of all the times he's tried to kill someone you love? Need I remind you that he killed _me_?" Yamcha said, growing angrier by the second. I just rolled my eyes and swiftly walked away from him. I was heading towards the others as they gathered to watch Goku finish off Frieza and his father.

I heard Yamcha curse under his breath behind me, but I ignored him. Halfway between him and the rest of the gang, I realized that Vegeta was still knocked out, and I quickly diverted my path towards his unconscious body. Frieza's energy blast had charred off whatever remained of his pink shirt, and I couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. He really did look good in that thing.

I nudged him with my bare foot to see if it would wake him, fearful that I might do more damage to his beaten body than was already administered. He didn't stir. I mentally kicked myself for forgetting to bring a capsule car with me—if he stayed unconscious I had no idea how I was going to get him back to the compound with me. For whatever reason, I felt oddly responsible for Vegeta, so I stayed beside him and watched Goku take out the Colds effortlessly.

I was glad Vegeta wasn't awake to see Goku succeed (a second time) in the one thing Vegeta never could: destroying Frieza. I had only a vague idea of the tortuous upbringing Vegeta must have had serving under Frieza, and after meeting the tyrant face-to-face, the haughty Saiyan prince had earned my sympathy.

By the time I returned my attention to the battle at hand, both Frieza and King Cold had been completely obliterated. Goku was now commanding the attention of the others, demonstrating some new technique by the sounds of it. Curiosity pulled me away from Vegeta's broken body and I got close enough to hear Goku as he demonstrated.

"... I like to call it instant transmission!" he said as I caught the tail-end of his explanation. Then he disappeared, only to reappear just as quickly, but with a key difference: he was wearing Master Roshi's sunglasses.

"Woah!" everyone said in unison. I chuckled; Goku caught on to new techniques so easily. I wondered how long it took him to learn how to teleport. Two, maybe three weeks?

"Hey Bulma!" he said merrily as he noticed my approach. I beamed back at him, though for some reason, I felt as if I were forcing myself to be cheery. His presence was not nearly as gratifying as it usually was to me.

"Hey there Goku!" I said. "Cool trick! I think someone over there could benefit from a little teleportation right now." I nodded in Vegeta's direction, and it didn't take Goku long to realize what I meant.

"Oh, sure! But where should I take him?" he asked, clueless.

"Back to Capsule Corp. He's living with us now."

Goku looked pleasantly surprised at the news. "That's great! Wow, he's living with you? He sure has changed while I've been gone!"

I smiled warmly at my old friend. He loved it when former enemies became allies; Piccolo was a prime example. Goku believed that everyone could be reformed, although that thought process was significantly flawed. There were some people who could never be redeemed. Fortunately, Vegeta wasn't one of those people.

I could tell by the expressions on the others' faces that they were skeptical about him, and rightly so. Tien and Chiaotzu were looking at me as if I were insane when I admitted that Vegeta was staying with me, but I ignored them. Vegeta wasn't exactly harmless, but he didn't frighten me. Then again, he was like a newborn kitten compared to Frieza, and now that I'd nearly faced _his _wrath, I was completely desensitized by all other dangers. That mentality would eventually come back to haunt me.

"Dad, can I come with you while you take Vegeta back to Bulma's?" Gohan asked. My heart went out to him; it was obvious that Gohan didn't want to be away from his father any more than was necessary now that he was finally back. Goku smiled brightly at his young son.

"Sure! I've never tried to transport anyone else besides myself before, but I guess now's a good time to test it out!" he said. He motioned for Gohan, myself, Yamcha, and Puar to follow him, though not before saying a few heartfelt goodbyes to the others. We walked over to the place where Vegeta was knocked unconscious, and Goku kneeled down and put his hand on the older Saiyan's bloodied shoulder.

"Everyone grab onto me," he instructed, and each of us complied obediently. The desert began to melt away from sight, and I felt a peculiar tingling sensation in the pit of my stomach as I was instantaneously moved from one place to another. The tingling feeling dissipated as quickly as I'd identified it, and in less than a second I was back at the Capsule Corp compound again.

"Thanks for the ride, Goku!" Yamcha said. Goku smiled in response and patted Gohan's head. "Ready to head home, son? Your mom is sure gonna be surprised when she sees me!" he said. Gohan nodded eagerly, and I watched the two disappear into thin air moments later, wondering when I would see them again.

Yamcha and Puar left soonafter. Puar politely said goodbye, but Yamcha remained mute. I knew he was angry with me, but I didn't really care. I had to tend to Vegeta, and I called a few of my employees to help me move him to the medical ward. He was still knocked out, but I knew he'd be fine. Those Saiyans always bounced back, even from the most gruesome of injuries.

When I finally found time to relax, my thoughts strayed back to Goku. He'd been gone for so long I almost forgot what it was like having him around. I tried to find comfort in the fact that now he was here, Earth was undoubtedly safe once again. With Frieza and King Cold out of the picture, I couldn't imagine any other being in the universe that would challenge Goku now. The threat was over.

So why did it feel like the worst was yet to come?

***

**A/N:** Just in case you were wondering, not every incident will be told from both Gohan and Bulma's perspectives. I just felt it was necessary to see Goku's return to Earth through both of their POVs *shrug*


	4. Ambush

-1**CHAPTER THREE: AMBUSH**

My dad promised me a rematch after he cut short our sparring session that night. Once we got home, he stayed committed to his bed for three days straight. On the fourth day, I realized the rematch wasn't happening.

"I don't know what's wrong with him!" my mom said four days later, completely at a loss. "Your father has never been sick a day in his life, I just don't understand it!"

We were sitting by his bedside, watching him struggle in his sleep. It just wasn't right. Dad loved his sleep; next to sparring and eating, it was one of his favorite activities. He always slept with the most peaceful and satisfied expression on his face. For the past three days, his expressions during sleep were disturbing at best. The pain he felt, even at rest, shone clearly across his usually relaxed features. His brows were unnaturally creased and his jaw shook with tension as he ground his teeth together--a vain attempt to stifle the pain. Occasionally, his hand shot to his chest and fiercely clutched the fabric of his shirt, as if he were trying to rip his own heart out.

"Honey, did you call a doctor?" Grandpa asked from the corner of the room. The worry lines in Mom's forehead deepened as she responded, "Of course I did, Dad! No doctor is willing to come all the way out here, and you know I can't drive. Poor Gohan would have to fly his father all the way to the hospital in North City, and that's at least 30 miles away. I don't think Goku could make it that long."

She was right; there was no way I could fly Dad to the hospital, without hurting him more. He completely recoiled from any human contact. His skin was aflame, and whenever we tried to touch him, he yelped in alarm. The coolness of our skin contradicted too heavily with the burning temperature of his, so if anybody touched him, our cold hands on his bare skin sent painful shocks through his body.

Mom was having a difficult time keeping her hands away from him. I could tell she wanted to hug him, put her arms around him, stroke his forehead--anything to comfort him. It was an ungodly contradiction that touching him would actually cause more discomfort, rather than less. Mom was always a headstrong and aggressive woman, but she was also very tender, and she showed that tenderness in very physical ways. Some people felt more comfortable sharing their feelings through words, but Mom preferred tangible displays of affection. Not being able to hold and comfort my dad really took its toll on her.

Grandpa asked my mom to step outside the room with him for a moment, and I followed her with my eyes as she slowly retreated from the room, leaving me beside my ailing father. For a second, I was torn between staying by his side and listening in to their conversation. The latter urge won over, and I tiptoed over to my mother's bedroom and put my ear against the door.

I heard Grandpa's voice first; he was earnestly trying to convince my mom to do something, though at first I wasn't sure what it was. When I heard Bulma's name, I figured it out pretty quickly.

"You know she could help us!" Grandpa said in a pleading voice. I heard a muffled, exasperated sigh that I knew came from my mother.

"Dad, you know I could never_ ever_ ask anyone for money, especially Bulma! She's a family friend, I would be so embarrassed if she knew--"

"So you'd rather lose your husband than sacrifice your pride just this once, Chi-Chi? Goku is going to die!"

"Dad, don't say that! What if Gohan hears you?"

Hearing the truth so bluntly stated for the first time nearly knocked the wind out of my lungs, and I lost all my stealth when I heard the shocking news. I fell backwards, flat on my behind with a loud thud, and Mother and Grandpa came running out to discover the source of the noise. Mom shot a scathing look at Grandpa as she realized I had been listening in.

"Gohan, honey, are you okay?" she said, bending over to help me up. I was still in a daze as she gripped my arms, firmly yet lovingly, pulling me into a falsely comforting embrace.

"Don't you listen to what Grandpa said," she whispered in my ear. "Your father is going to be just fine."

Like I said, Mom wasn't very good at expressing her feelings with words. But her vice-like embrace said it all; she held onto me as if I were the last thing she had left in the world. I soon would be.

***

Before parting with me the day Dad came back from space, Piccolo had promised to visit and train with me. I didn't see the point in training now that Frieza was dead, but he always insisted on training constantly, no matter how peaceful the times. He was always expecting something bigger and more powerful to come along, and he wanted to be ready. At the time, the idea of a foe stronger than Frieza was ludicrous. Nonetheless, I loved training with Piccolo-san, and I heartily looked forward to his visit.

But when I sensed his chi approaching later that day, I felt an enormous sense of dread wash over me. I didn't want anyone to know that my dad was sick. If I didn't have to tell any one, then it wasn't a big deal. It wasn't a reality until I said it out loud. I wanted to keep the truth bottled up inside our cozy little house, where it would eventually turn to dust and get swept away during Mother's routine house cleaning. But Piccolo was coming, and Father's energy level was dangerously low--there was no way I could hide the truth from my former sensei.

I met Piccolo outside. As I saw his silhouette approaching, I sent a silent prayer to Kami that he wouldn't ask about my dad. Apparently, Kami wasn't listening.

"Where's Goku?" Piccolo asked the second he landed, his eyes narrowed in guarded concern.

I swallowed; my mouth had suddenly gone dry. "He's... sick," I replied lamely, crossing my fingers in hopes that he wouldn't question me further. No such luck.

"Your father is never sick. Is it serious?"

I calmly explained the situation to Piccolo. With every word, the tension in his body rose markedly. I left out the part about Dad being on the brink of death.

"Has he been taken to a medical facility?" Piccolo asked.

I shook my head. Piccolo crossed his arms and furrowed his brows, deep in thought. "This might sound strange," he said at last. "But perhaps you should turn on the television."

I wasn't sure what he meant until he pulled a newspaper out of his training gi and showed it to me. "Piccolo, you read the news... ?" I asked.

He shrugged and replied cryptically, "It never hurts to keep up with current events, Gohan. You should always know what is going on around you, especially on the planet you inhibit."

I chuckled at his cryptic statement in spite of myself, but the chuckle died quickly in my throat when I read the headline: **DEADLY VIRUS CLAIMS ANOTHER VICTIM**

***

Up until about half a year before my dad came back, my mom had never allowed a television inside the house; she was afraid it would interfere with my studies. Grandpa eventually bought me a little set for my birthday, much to her dismay. The second I unwrapped it, Mom swept it under her arms and hid it somewhere in the vast reaches of her closet. It took about 30 seconds to find it, and another 30 minutes to get it set up. The news was on every channel.

"The virus appears to strike randomly, affecting only about half of those exposed," a doctor with a thick Swedish accent was saying during an interview with a news reporter. "It seems to target mostly men with healthy immune systems between 19 and 35 years old, though the pattern is becoming increasingly sporadic."

"And is there an antidote in the works, doctor?" asked the reporter.

The doctor shook his head. "We have not been able to isolate a sample long enough to create a vaccine. The virus is very volatile. To be frank, an antidote could take months, if not years."

The reporter nodded grimly and turned back to the camera. "Thanks to Dr. Henrik Jonsson for being with us today..." My attention on the television set was beginning to waver. I had so much adrenaline coursing through my system that I was shaking uncontrollably, and I had to sit down to stop myself from collapsing. I refocused long enough to hear the same news reporter list off symptoms...

"... inability to stand or walk..." Check.

"... deep, intense pain in and around the chest area..." Check.

"... inability to talk or focus... " Check.

"... extreme fatigue... " Check.

"... excessive sweating... " Check.

"... difficulty breathing... " Check.

I tuned the rest out. Mom's eyes were glued to the television still, and a trail of tears was quickly making its way down her pale cheeks.

The way I saw it, I had only two options: sit by my father's sick bed, or go and confide in Piccolo. I opted for the latter, only in hopes that he would be able to offer some words of comfort. I found him outside in a meditative state, but my chi signal alerted him to my presence.

"Well?" he asked.

I nodded solemnly; it was the only reply I could muster.

"They say no human has survived it yet," Piccolo said, never one to sugarcoat anything. I stifled a sob. Piccolo ignored it.

"But, your father isn't human, kid. He needs medical attention... you know that. He might recover."

Finding a doctor was a daunting task, but it was one I was willing to undertake for his sake. I couldn't stand just sitting by and watching any more. There was a lethal virus attacking his body, ambushing him, controlling every movement. He was fighting an invisible enemy, and I could do nothing to help. My dad was on his own this time.

"I think I'm going to go," Piccolo said. "We can train another time."

He put his hand on my shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze. I kept my head down--I was afraid I would burst into tears if I looked at him. I think he understood, because he said goodbye and disappeared. The sun was just beginning to set.

I spent the remainder of the night in Father's room, unable to tear my eyes away from his body as it twitched and tweaked in response to the pain. I could only imagine how painful the virus was, to bring down a man like my dad. It never once crossed my mind that I might get the virus, too. It was a risk I was willing to take.

Through my father's agonizing cries of pain, I somehow managed to hear my Mother's heavily congested voice in the background. She was crying uncontrollably, and I could sense her chi spike alongside her raging emotions as she held the telephone receiver to one side of her tear-stained face. When I heard her speak, it sounded like she was at the brink of desperation:

"B-Bulma?"

I knew it had to be bad to bring my mother to that point. I didn't want to admit it to myself at the time, but that was the moment I lost all hope. That was the moment I knew my father was going to die.

***

**A/N:** I so need to get out of the habit of making cryptic statements. Angst comes a little too easily to me, in my opinion, lol.


	5. Diagnosis

**CHAPTER 4: DIAGNOSIS**

I had been anticipating Goku's arrival ever since Porunga told us he was still alive, training somewhere in the far reaches of space. I never felt one-hundred percent safe without Goku around--force of habit, perhaps. He _had _been rescuing me since I was sixteen years old, after all. Goku's presence was always calming to me. Whenever he was around, I felt safe. Like I knew everything was going to be okay.

When I saw him that day Frieza came to Earth, I knew something was wrong. I looked at him, dressed in that ridiculous outfit from Yardrat, and all I could feel was dread. I didn't understand why until I got that phone call.

I could tell it was Chi-Chi, because the person crying on the other end was clearly a woman, and she was the only woman who ever called me besides my mom. I waited respectfully for her to gather her bearings until she finally spoke.

"B-Bulma?" she blubbered. Her voice was thick with congestion.

"What's wrong, Chi?" I asked. It took a lot to make that woman cry, and I knew something was gravely wrong. I had known, subconsciously, for weeks.

"I-it's Goku. H-he's been s-sick, a-and, a-and he… oh, Bulma, he has it! T-the virus! H-he going to d--"

I knew what she was going to say before she finished, and I shushed her. She was struggling to talk and breathe as it was, and part of me just didn't want to hear the truth.

The outbreak of the virus had been all over the news for the past week or so. It struck randomly, and did not seem to be contagious, nor was it animal or insect-borne. It was just one of those freak things.

Chi-Chi had not called simply to inform me that my best friend was dying. No, she had an ulterior motive. It was the last thing a proud woman like her would ever consider doing, but this was an act of desperation, and she was on the brink.

"Bulma," she said. "I-I need your help. I can't… I can't get Goku the medical attention he needs b-by myself. We don't even h-have health insurance, b-because Goku d-doesn't work…"

"Chi-Chi," I said. "I will personally hunt down the best doctors in the world for you. Don't worry about it."

She never stopped trying to repay me from that day on, even though my "help" didn't work.

***

I spent hours working feverishly by my father's side, exhausting every connection we had to the world's most renowned doctors. As soon as they found out the owner and heiress of Capsule Corporation was inquiring about their services, they jumped at the opportunity to help us. But when we told them about Goku's ailment, each of them expressed doubt that anything could be done.

"The virus can only be subdued in its earliest stages," said one doctor. He was the lead scientist on a team of ten that were working to concoct an antidote. His name was Dr. Henrik Jonsson, and I had to struggle to understand his words through his thick Swedish accent.

"Are you saying my friend cannot be helped, or… ?" I let him finish my sentence for me.

"Once the patient begins to show signs of wear, then it is already too late. Nobody has yet lived from this virus, Ms. Briefs. I'm very sorry, but there's not much we can do at this point."

I bit my lower lip as hard as I could to stop myself from bursting into tears.

"Dr. Jonsson, you don't understand," I said. "Can you at least take a look at him for me? My friend, he's… different. He might just have what it takes to beat this thing. Please, doctor... I won't be able to forgive myself if he dies because I didn't exhaust every resource that I have. I'll pay you anything you ask, you know that."

I didn't even listen to the price that Dr. Jonsson named, because it didn't matter. I would have paid any amount, and I agreed to it without a second thought.

***

I flew our fastest aircraft to Dr. Jonsson's location and picked him up the next morning. It was a two hour trip for me, but it felt like an eternity. I knew Goku's life was hanging in the balance, and that knowledge was nesting in my brain, eating away at every other thought. This was my chance to save him, after all the times he had rescued me. For once, I wasn't completely powerless.

Dr. Jonsson was a silent, somber man, and he sat wordlessly beside me as I flew him towards our ultimate destination: Goku's house. There was a small briefcase in his lap, and I couldn't help wondering if it held an antidote. Wishful thinking on my part, but it was wishful thinking that was keeping me sane.

We landed about twenty feet away from the Son's little cottage, and Chi-Chi, Gohan, and the Ox-King were all waiting for us outside.

"Thank Kami you're here!" said the Ox-King. Gohan and Chi-Chi said nothing. Gohan wore a fake half-smile, and Chi-Chi was avoiding all eye contact with me. Neither of them looked like they had slept the previous night. I suddenly felt guilty that I had been able to sleep at all.

"Show me the patient," Dr. Jonsson said, and Chi-Chi led him up to Goku's bedroom without hesitation. I could tell she was antsy to get the final diagnosis for Goku. She was probably holding on to the same hope that I was: maybe by some miracle Goku didn't have the virus… just something that mirrored its symptoms exactly. Or, maybe, he would be the first to recover from it. Wishful thinking strikes again.

The first time I saw Goku, it took all of my self control not to cry out in alarm. I did it for Gohan's sake--I didn't want to frighten the poor kid. But the second I saw Goku I lost the small portion of hope that had been bottled up within me.

There was a layer of sweat covering his entire body, glistening in the sunlight as it poured through the bedroom window. His face was contorted into the most horrifying grimace of pain I had ever seen. It was unimaginable. I looked away--I didn't know how Chi-Chi or Gohan could stand to look at him and remain by his side. I hardly had the stomach for it.

Dr. Jonsson's examination lasted about five minutes. He took a blood sample and checked Goku's temperature.

"How is this possible?" the doctor muttered. "A temperature of 43 degrees Celsius? It's a wonder the man is still living at all! How long has he been sick?"

"Five days," Chi-Chi replied quickly. Dr. Jonsson gaped in shock.

"That's very unusual. Most people with the virus are sick for at least two weeks before getting to this point. This man is in the final stages. The virus seems to be accelerating, rather than slowing down."

Dr. Jonsson put his hands on Goku's neck to feel his lymph nodes, and the second he made contact with Goku's skin, Goku jerked away and nearly fell off the bed. Chi-Chi cried out in alarm, and Gohan just stood there staring at his father's body with wide eyes.

"Hey kid, let's get out of here," I muttered in Gohan's ear, grabbing his hand and leading him out of the bedroom with me. I didn't want to stay and watch any more than he did.

We walked down the hallway in silence. I could hear Dr. Jonsson's voice droning on in the background, and Chi-Chi's stifled sobs in response to whatever he was telling her. I spoke up only to drown them out.

"So how are your studies going, Gohan?" I asked with a forced smile, looking down at the demi Saiyan. He kept his eyes on his shoes as he walked with me, and replied robotically, "Fine."

He was not in the mood to give me anything more than one-word responses. Not that I didn't blame the little guy.

"Bulma?" he said as we came to a stop in the kitchen. I was absent-mindedly getting him and myself a glass of water. "What is it, hun?" I asked.

"Are funerals expensive?"

My heart sunk to the bottom of my feet when I heard him say that. The burdens of adulthood were already on his mind, and I couldn't stand it. He was just a child.

"Don't you worry about that. There isn't going to be a funeral, and even if there were, I would pay for it," I replied, careful not to assume Goku's death in front of his young son.

Much to my surprise, Gohan chuckled. "Bulma," he said. "I know I'm just an eight year old kid to you, but I have seen horrible things in battle, things you can't even really imagine. I need you to treat me like an adult right now. I need you to be honest with me. Will one adult in my life just stop sugar coating everything? I'm not a baby anymore! I can handle this! I want the truth!"

Gohan was getting so worked up that in the midst of his frustration, he began to power up, and the strength of his chi sent a chill through me.

"Calm down, Gohan," I said. "The last thing your mom needs right now is for you to fly off the wall."

He did calm down some when I mentioned his mother, but his expression was still lethal. He was angry. He wanted me to be honest with him. I sighed.

"I... I don't know what you want me to say, Gohan," I said. "You heard that doctor in there. The virus is attacking your dad more viciously than anyone else who's had it yet. The doctor didn't look very hopeful. I'm not sure what else you need from me."

"I need you to say it," Gohan said.

At first, I wasn't sure what he meant. "Say what, Gohan?"

He was gritting his teeth. His hands were balled into fists at his sides, knuckle-white and shaking with tension. "Tell me he is going to die. Say it."

I scoffed and looked away from him. I wasn't ready to say it out loud, especially to someone who was so emotionally invested in the situation. "I won't do that, Gohan. You can take that up with your mother. It's not my place to discuss this with you."

Gohan cringed and looked away. I leaned forward to put a comforting hand on his shoulder, but he was gone before I could reach him. He jumped out of the kitchen window and flew off. It was still daylight, but he disappeared from view in seconds. He must have been going really fast.

Chi-Chi, Dr. Jonsson, and the Ox-King came downstairs moments later. Dr. Jonsson nodded at me, indicating he was ready to go. I dared not look at Chi-Chi. I followed the doctor outside and decapsulated my aircraft.

"So... ?" I asked once we were both buckled in and heading back towards his office.

Dr. Jonsson was frank when he responded. "He will not make it much longer. I was able to administer temporary pain relief medicine. Once he becomes conscious, he should be able to speak for a few minutes before he becomes too weak again. I understand that it will be important for you to talk to him... get the will finalized... and..." He trailed off. He spoke with the kind of directness I had not been able to muster with Gohan. Then again, he had no ties or bonds to Goku, the way I had. He was lucky.

"That's uhh, all I need to know, doctor," I said. "Thank you so much for your... help."

The rest of the trip was made in silence. For some reason the time passed by much more quickly than before.

***

Later that night, I found myself walking through the garden maze my mom had recently constructed in the back yard. In my left hand was a half-finished cigarette, and in my right was my cell phone. I was expecting Chi-Chi to call and tell me Goku was dead at any moment.

It was a windy night, and the cool air was the only thing that soothed my frazzled nerves. I rubbed my cigarette out on the bottom of my shoe without finishing it. I could never smoke on an empty stomach, and I hadn't eaten a thing since I saw Goku that morning.

We had twenty acres of land, but that night was the first time I took a second to appreciate it. It was so silent outside, save for the quiet rustling of the wind, that I heard him the moment he approached.

"Woman."

I recognized Vegeta's traditional greeting, but I did not turn to acknowledge him.

"Vegeta, I'm really not in the mood for your crap right now. Save it, okay?" I said, more rudely than I'd anticipated. I raised my head and made eye contact with him to make up for my unnecessary hostility.

I was surprised to see that the usually gruff Saiyan Prince did not look perturbed in the slightest. He had that eternal scowl etched into his face, but his eyebrows were not furrowed in distaste, as I had expected.

Vegeta was very matter-of-fact with me. "I demand to know the nature of Kakkarot's condition," he said.

I blinked in sheer surprise. "Who told you?"

"That insufferable blonde wench you call a mother. Now, answer my question, woman!"

He practically snarled at me, but I was too worried to give him hell for his demanding remarks. I forced myself to answer him honestly.

"Goku is going to die," I said, and I had to avert my gaze again because I felt tears begin to well up and spill from the corners of my eyes. I tried to wipe away the little traitors, but as soon as I took a breath to calm myself, I released an uncontrollable sob. Hearing myself weep only made me more upset, and I had to take a seat on the ground because my legs began to give out.

Vegeta must have been utterly flabbergasted with my behavior, but he hid it well. "Calm yourself," he said, and I could tell that my unadulterated display of emotion was making him feel uncomfortable. He obviously didn't know how to react, so he just inched over to me and sat down on the pavement where I had crumbled into a teary heap. I suppose it was his way of comforting me, just staying beside me and allowing me get it out of my system. I half-expected him to begin insulting me, but he just sat there quietly and waited. We sat side-by-side on the floor until I finally stopped crying.

"What are you going to do if Goku dies?" I asked him, after a good ten minutes of silence passed between us. He looked taken aback by my question, so I clarified: "I mean, isn't that your numero uno goal? Surpassing him in power? What are you going to do without a stronger guy in the universe to overcome?"

I chuckled morbidly, trying to find humor in an otherwise humorless situation. Vegeta looked as if the thought had already occurred to him, but he considered his reply for several minutes. When he finally spoke, he said three words that scared me more than any death threat he had ever made.

"I don't know."

So he and I were on the same page. Neither of us knew what we were going to do without Goku.

***

**A/N:** Yay for quick updates.


	6. Defeat

**CHAPTER 5: DEFEAT**

Not many kids can say they watched their own father die twice. But that was my reality--the burden I was born into, and the result of my father's misguided ambition to protect Earth. The day he died, I wanted to retreat into myself, let my human half take over, and just live like I'd never seen power, or death. But my father's duty passed on to me, the unfortunate result of being blood related to one of the most powerful warriors ever known. I couldn't do what I wanted. It became my burden.

He died almost two days after Bulma hired the doctor to examine him. By then, Bulma had spread word of his illness. Everyone was gathering at our house to watch him die, and it made me sick. His death wasn't a sideshow to me, but that's how it felt when I saw them all arrive--Bulma, Piccolo, Krillin, Yamcha, Puar, Oolong and Master Roshi. I can't remember if there was anyone else. Tien and Chiaotzu weren't there, and I was thankful for that. I wanted our tragedy exploited to as few people as possible.

Mother was running around, busying herself with making lunch for the houseguests. It was a good distraction for her. I was focusing all of my attention on my father's chi, monitoring its strength as it wavered, getting weaker every minute. He had been waking up in random intervals since Dr. Jonsson administered the medicine. He had even managed to gather enough strength to talk, at one point.

"GOHAN--COME QUICKLY!" I heard my mom yell the first and only time Dad was able to speak again, about twelve hours after Bulma and the doctor left. I didn't have to be told twice--I bolted to his bedroom. His eyes were barely cracked open, but his breathing was somewhat even, and I knew he could sense my chi.

"G-Gohan?"

Hearing his voice, I didn't know whether to collapse or jump for joy. Mom left the room, overwhelmed by emotion. I was glad to spend the moment alone with him. I suspected she had already spoken with him before calling me.

"Hey Dad," I said, moving closer so he wouldn't have to speak loudly. "How are you feeling?"

He tried to chuckle, but it was only a dry wheeze. "Not t-too good, kiddo," he replied. "I don't think I-I'm gonna make it this time."

I bit my lower lip to keep a sob at bay. "You're just trying to avoid a rematch with me, 'cause you know I'll beat ya!" I said. I think he smiled.

"Y-you're gonna be a force to reckon with, son," he muttered. His voice was barely above a whisper now. "I'm so sorry I won't b-be there to see it. B-but maybe King Kai will let me check in on you guys..." He paused to catch his breath, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep myself from crying.

"Dad..." I stopped there, and lost my train of thought.

"G-Gohan, keep making me proud. Take c-care of your mother. It's your duty now... to protect our friends... and this planet..."

I nodded. Immediately I felt the weight of responsibility on my shoulders, and I both welcomed and resented it.

With speed he shouldn't have been capable of in his sickened state, Dad suddenly grabbed my hand and squeezed it tightly. He was shaking, and I knew he was in pain. His skin was so hot I nearly withdrew my hand in shock.

"I love you. Gohan, I love you. I love you..."

"I love you too, Dad."

He fell unconscious after that, finally using up his last ounce of energy. He didn't wake again.

***

Mom forced me to come to the table and eat with the rest of Dad's friends. I didn't have too much of an appetite, but the others sat and ate politely, if only to appease my mother. Mid-meal, we were interrupted by a loud thud as Krillin slammed his hands down on the table in frustration. "I don't understand how all of you can sit around and chat while Goku is in the other room dying!" he exclaimed. They were my sentiments exactly, but I had managed to keep myself subdued. Krillin lacked the same self-control, apparently.

"Krillin," Bulma muttered through her teeth, her eyes pleading with him not to make a scene. He didn't listen.

"No, this is getting ridiculous. We have options, guys! Has anyone even thought of getting a senzu bean for Goku? I mean, it could work!"

"I already thought of that. Yajerobi is supposed to be bringing us a fresh batch, but he told me Korin said it doesn't work against diseases or viruses. Only injuries," Bulma said, trying to calm Krillin down.

"What about the dragonballs?" he asked.

"That won't work for two reasons, Krillin. One, we wouldn't be able to gather them in time. And two, the dragonballs cannot bring back someone who dies from natural causes," Piccolo cut in.

Krillin was starting to look defeated, but another idea quickly occurred to him. "What if we wish the virus away? Can't we do that? Wish him back to health?"

Piccolo shook his head.

"And the Namekian dragonballs, do they have that sort of power... ?"

"Krillin, it takes two weeks to get to Namek from here. You can't be serious," Bulma said.

"Well, what if we gather the Earth's dragonballs, wish them to wish us to Namek, and then use the Namekian dragonballs to wish Goku back to full health?"

"Again, we couldn't gather them in time. Now you're just overreaching," Piccolo replied, starting to get annoyed.

The others remained wordless throughout this entire exchange, and the air grew thick with tension afterwards. I couldn't stand the silence anymore, so I spoke up.

"I really appreciate all you guys are trying to do for us, but... I talked to my dad. He knows he's not gonna make it, and he's okay with that. We will manage without him. I'll keep training... I'll get just as strong as he is, and we'll be able to protect Earth from anything more powerful than Frieza, if it exists. I just know it," I said. I didn't look at anyone as I spoke, and once my speech was over I excused myself from the table for some air. I was so engrossed in my own thoughts that I didn't notice Bulma get up and follow me outside.

"Hey Gohan," she said. Ever since I blew up at her two days before she'd been treating me more like an adult, calling me by name instead of the usually condescending "kid" or "hun."

"Hi Bulma… Sorry about the other day," I said.

She smiled warmly. "Oh, don't worry about it. You're handling things... admirably. We're all proud of you, Gohan, especially your parents."

"Thanks, I guess."

Her smiled deepened. "Hey, Yamcha can barely talk, and you saw how Krillin's taking everything. You're handling it better than those two are, you deserve some kudos."

"I'm not sure that's a good thing," I replied solemnly.

Bulma didn't say a word after that. It was difficult to make small talk when someone you cared about was in the other room dying. "I'm... going for a walk," I muttered awkwardly, walking swiftly away from her before she could stop me.

"Where ya goin'?" she asked. I didn't answer, I just took off. I was going to visit the only friend who didn't feel sorry for me: Icarus.

***

The little purple dinosaur was always pleased to see me, and that evening was no different. The sun was just beginning to set, and the sky was ablaze with orange, pink, and yellow hues. It was the prettiest sunset I'd seen in a while.

Icarus seemed to enjoy my company, even if I wasn't in the mood for any adventures. I just sat beside him and patted his head occasionally, the same way the adults always did with me. It made me feel better, patting his head, as if I were comforting him. Perhaps that's why the adults had been doing it so much lately--it was easier for them to focus on my comfort rather than their own. Not that I had any reason to comfort Icarus. He was completely ignorant of the situation, and I liked it that way. He was an intuitive creature, though, and I think he could tell that I was upset. He nudged me with his nose and gazed at me with quizzical, bright green eyes.

"I'm fine, boy. Don't worry about me," I said.

I patted his head again.

I hadn't ventured too far from my house, just far enough so that nobody would come looking for me. Just far enough so that I could still sense my father's energy level. I refocused on his chi just in time to feel it spike tremendously, and suddenly flicker out completely.

I froze; my eyes widened. Icarus began looking around frantically, thinking I had sensed danger. "I have to go, Icarus," was the last thing I said before bounding off towards my home.

I ran. I ran so hard that the sudden increase in adrenaline almost brought me to my knees, but I didn't stop. I had to get home._ I had to_. It never occurred to me to fly.

When I reached our little cottage I burst inside my father's bedroom. Mom and Grandpa were gathered around his bedside. Father was motionless; I grabbed his hand. Still warm. But I sensed nothing.

"Oh, Gohan, honey, I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry!" said my mother. Her cry verified my fears.

_Goodbye, Daddy._


	7. Funeral

**CHAPTER 6: FUNERAL **

**(Bulma's POV)**

It was a small ceremony. My eyes were glued on Gohan the entire time; he didn't crack once. We all admired him for his bravery, but his behavior unnerved me. He was stoic and silent, so unlike the innocent little kid I first met on Master Roshi's island. Maybe I was wrong; maybe he did crack... Just not visibly.

It was the first funeral many of us had ever attended. Usually, our quick fix solution to everything was the dragonballs. There was no point in holding a memorial service when we weren't saying goodbye forever. But this time was different. Goku was gone.

Chi-Chi refused to let me pay for the funeral, so we had a quiet, subtle gathering in the 300-acre back yard behind the Son home. The wind was absent that day, the air so still that every sniffle or muffled sob found its way to my ears. I winced; the sound of sorrow was all around me, and it was merciless.

Vegeta came to the funeral, much to our collective surprise. I may have been the only one who truly understood why he was there. Vegeta was a proud guy, and his mannerisms were deeply rooted in royalty and tradition. Even if he did hate Goku, he recognized the importance of paying his respects to the last of his kind.

Towards the end of the service, Chi-Chi worked up the composure to address her guests. I could tell she couldn't stand to feel our sympathetic eyes on her, but she grit her teeth through it anyway. When it came to propriety, Chi-Chi wielded an iron fist.

"Thank you all for coming," she said. I could see her visibly straining to make eye contact with us, and when she finally looked up, her gaze was focused on some fixed point in the distance, just over our heads. She spoke briefly about how nice the weather turned out, and chastised us for not eating more of the food she'd slaved away in the kitchen to prepare. Then she turned her attention to the matter at hand.

"Goku was… he was a simple man," she began. "It didn't take much to make him happy. A good meal, that was always the quickest way to get a smile out of him. But then, he was always smiling, really. Sometimes I would just watch him, and I would wonder to myself _why _he was always smiling. Goku went through so much, but it never really fazed him. I realize now that it was because he never allowed the bad things to consume him. He never allowed them to make him grow up. Nothing could make him grow up, and believe me, I tried." Chi-Chi paused, robotically eliciting a light chuckle, looking down at her hands again. "I know that for many of you, myself included, this is the first real funeral you've ever been too. I just hope… I hope it doesn't happen again for a very long time."

We all nodded our heads in concession. How were we supposed to know that it was just wishful thinking?

***

Yamcha took me back to Capsule Corporation when it was all over. There was a lot of tension between us, and there had been ever since Frieza came to Earth the month before. We stayed silent throughout the entire ride, until he finally pulled up into the driveway.

"Want to come in?" I asked automatically, hoping he would decline, but feeling duty-bound to ask him nonetheless.

Yamcha perked up. "That sounds awesome! But we have to make it short, baseball practice later…"

"Baseball. Right. Is that what you do with all your time nowadays?" I said. It came out sounding more judgmental than I'd intended.

"Aww, Bulma, don't be like that! We've got a load of time to hang out now! Big bad Frieza is gone, and there's no reason for me to train. It's just you and me, babe. Uninterrupted, except by the occasional baseball practice session."

I started absent-mindedly fiddling with the dials on the radio as he spoke, avoiding his gaze. "Well, I'm glad you're still doing the baseball thing," I said, forcing a half-smile so that he might buy it.

He seemed to genuinely believe me. "Well, you know me, I'm a baseball fiend!"

Several moments of silence followed. The tension was building--it was becoming downright uncomfortable. How could I say, "You know, I'd rather be alone right now" without hurting his feelings?

Luckily, it didn't take much for him to catch on. "Okay babe, I get it. You need to go fiddle with your inventions to take your mind off things. I'll let you have your space." He kissed my cheek softly. "I love you."

"Love you, too," was my automatic response. I've found that when you're with someone for such a long time, compulsory declarations of love become the norm. It's expected--no, _required_--of you to say it. But doing so cheapens the words dramatically, at least in my experience. Every time I told Yamcha I loved him, my mouth dried up.

As I retreated from his car and disappeared into Capsule Corp, I breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that I'd managed to avoid an emotional confrontation. The day of Goku's funeral was not the right day for relationship drama.

I much preferred the verbal confrontation I was faced with the second I got my foot in the door.

"WOMAN--"

"Gravity machine, I know, I know," I muttered upon hearing Vegeta's traditional greeting. He must have sensed me coming because he was right in front of me, as if he'd been waiting for me by the door like a loyal dog.

I was happy to have a little project to distract me for a while, but much to my dismay, Vegeta followed me to my lab, and once I grabbed my tools, he followed me back to the gravity room. Yep, just like a loyal dog, I thought. Though in his case, it was more like loyal _monkey_. Or loyal alien.

"Don't you have something better to do than watch me all day, Vegeta? These repairs could take hours," I said. He was sitting on the other side of the gravity room, his eyes locked on me. It was actually kind of eerie.

"If I watch you, you'll work faster," was his short reply. I rolled my eyes. He _would_ say that. I took my time just to spite him, trying to ignore his penetrating gaze.

"Kami, can you open a window? It must be ten degrees hotter in here than it is outside, Vegeta. Are you nuts?" I asked. I received no response from him, so I continued working until the heat became unbearable.

It was a little late to lament the outfit I'd replaced with my black funeral dress: shabby overalls and an unflattering, long-sleeved flannel shirt. No wonder I was burning up. I unhooked the shoulder straps and tied a knot behind my shirt, making it as skin-tight as possible. As I rolled up the sleeves, Vegeta spoke up.

"You're doing a despicable job," he announced, sounding utterly bored. I frowned.

"Hey, I'm the only one who fixes the gravity room for you at the drop of a hat, mister. Don't give me that," I said.

He smirked a little. "I'm not referring to that. I'm referring to your pathetic flirtation attempt. Even if you were prancing around here nude it still wouldn't tempt me, woman."

I scoffed and stood upright immediately. "I was not _flirting_ with _you_! I have a boyfriend, you know! It was just way too hot in here! Could you be more full of yourself?" I tried to look appalled, but he seemed unconvinced. He rolled his eyes and declined to comment further, but he never stopped staring at me.

"Maybe I should test that theory," I said after a few minutes. "Maybe I _should _walk around naked from now on, just to see what you'll do."

He scoffed. "You can try it, but you'll only succeed in making a fool out of yourself. In any case, I doubt Scarface would appreciate that very much."

"Oh, Yamcha? Yeah, he'd probably throw a fit and do something stupid, challenge you to a battle, something like that. I wouldn't mind watching him get beaten up," I said with a shrug.

"You want me to battle your mate?" Vegeta asked, looking genuinely curious. I was slightly taken aback by his candid question.

"We're not… mates," I said after a brief moment, forcing the last word out. It left a bad taste in my mouth.

Vegeta frowned. "You mean to tell me that you have yet to mate with that cretin? And he puts up with it? He is more foolish than I imagined…"

"Oh, it's not like that, Vegeta!" I said quickly. "I don't think Yamcha and I can be considered mates just because we, er… engage in certain sexual behaviors. Relationships work a little differently on this planet, they're not so much defined by sex. You can be in a relationship with another person, but it doesn't mean you are bound together for the rest of your life. I mean, we do have something like that here. It's called marriage. But with divorce rates lately, I'm starting to think there _is _no such thing as being eternally bound any more. I don't know. Guess I've never really had time to stop and consider it for too long before."

Vegeta nodded to signal his comprehension. This was a rare moment--he was actually interested in the conversation, rather than engaging for the purposes of playful banter or to relieve pure boredom. Part of me wanted to seize it, this laid back version of the haughty Saiyan Prince I loved to hate.

I went back to work on the gravity machine, chuckling to myself. Given the circumstances, the fact that anything could amuse me was surprising. Goku was in the back of my mind the entire time, but somehow, working and bickering with Vegeta was keeping my trivial, everyday thoughts at the forefront.

I was more than shocked when Vegeta started talking again, unprovoked. "I was under the impression that people in relationships on this planet are required to spend quality time with one another," he said. "To date, you spend significantly more time with me than you do Scarface, though I can't say I blame you. The difference in attractiveness is really night and day, don't you think?"

I rolled my eyes, but mentally cursed him for being so observant. How did he find the time to keep tabs on my relationship with Yamcha and simultaneously work out in the gravity room 18 hours a day? It didn't make sense.

"Yeah, well… I'm not going there right now," I muttered. I was done with the repairs, but I didn't want Vegeta to know that. Our conversation was beginning to spark my interest as well, and I wanted to take advantage of Vegeta's temporary tolerance for my presence.

"Hn," was all he said after that, and another layer of silence fell upon us. I tried to keep the conversation going.

"Alright, alright, I'll talk. I guess it all started the day Goku came back from space," I began, launching into a description of my problems with Yamcha without waiting for Vegeta to ask. "No, actually, it started way before that, but that's when things just began to plummet. I was so… disgusted with him for leaving me out there in the field, completely vulnerable, with Frieza out there ready to attack at any second. I mean, if you hadn't stepped in, I would have been toast!"

Vegeta became suddenly antsy and apprehensive as I finished my last sentence. "Are you done?" he asked curtly. I nodded. "Then get out," he said, dismissing me with a wave of his hand.

"Ungrateful bastard," I muttered, though I knew better than to argue against him. I packed up my tools and headed back towards my office. Fighting with Vegeta wasn't on my to-do list for the day, either. Playful banter was fine, but I couldn't deal with anger just yet. I was still trying to find a way to handle all the sorrow.

It didn't take a genius (though I am one) to figure out why Vegeta's mood morphed so dramatically when I mentioned Frieza. He saved me from Frieza's deadly attack, and he _hated_ that I knew that. It was more than I could say for Yamcha, who preferred the "drop everything and run" method.

I sighed to myself as I trudged into the kitchen. I had no patience to cook, so I took the convenient route and ordered out. When the food arrived, I called Vegeta into the house over the intercom, and he appeared within seconds. I could tell by the way he began gathering up the food in his arms that he intended to take it back to the gravity room with him.

"Hey, relax! You can eat here at the table with me, you know. I won't bite. Plus, I don't want to eat alone, and since I bought this dinner for you, I'd say you're obligated to grant me a little company," I said. Vegeta didn't object; he didn't say anything at all, just took the chair across from me and began stuffing his face.

Towards the end of the meal, I decided it was the perfect time to put him on the spot and thank him for saving me.

"You know, with everything that's happened in the past few weeks, I completely forgot about what happened with Frieza when Goku came back last month. It didn't really occur to me to thank you until now. I didn't really see it happen, you know, so I didn't see you… throw yourself in front of the blast, or whatever you did. I just wanted to say thank you, for that. I don't know why you did it, but…"

The look on his face made me trail off. His brows were creased together, his eyes downcast. Was he… blushing?

"Your safety was an unfortunate consequence of my interference in the fight," he said at last, grinding his teeth together. "Frieza let his guard down… it was the perfect moment to strike."

I shook my head. "I have no idea why you try so hard to protect your pride, Vegeta," I said. "It's not like I'm going to hold this over your head. As far as I'm concerned, we're even. I gave you a place to stay, you saved my life, so we're square. Our debts are settled, oh mighty Prince." I smiled at him, but he didn't respond. He was trying desperately to avoid my searching gaze.

I sighed. "Alright, just forget it. I un-thank you, how's that? Let's just… change the subject."

He looked more than happy, relieved even, at my suggestion, and we continued to eat in silence for several moments before I thought of a more appropriate topic of discussion.

"So… uhh, what exactly are you training for, anyway?" I asked casually. Vegeta raised an eyebrow, as if he didn't understand my question. "I mean, now that Goku is… not with us… you're the strongest guy around, so what's the point, really? Of training?" I clarified.

It didn't take Vegeta long to work up a suitable reply. "We must never get complacent," he said. "Your idiotic friends, I can see it in them already, they all will become lazy without an immediate threat to challenge them. And they'll all die, someday. Not me. I will never become complacent. I will train every day in anticipation of the next foe, and I guarantee you, in some form or another, another tyrant like Frieza will arise."

I shuddered. Even then, I knew his words were true.

***

Later that night, once the awkward dinner ended and Vegeta was back in his gravity room, I found myself flipping through the pages in one of my father's science magazines. I quickly scanned an article about the heart virus that had claimed Goku's life, not really expecting it to say anything significant. The one thing that stuck out to me was the way the writer described the virus, calling it "apocalyptic" in nature.

I always thought that line was ironic: the virus really had brought about the end of the world. It killed the only man that could save it.

***

**A/N: **I think I have turned this fic into a shameless writing exercise for myself. The exercise is called "pack as much angst as possible into one story without inducing vomit." Is it working? Lol. Sorry it took so long to get this chapter up. It has literally been half finished for months, and I kept tweaking it because I wasn't happy with it. I'm satisfied with this result, I hope you guys are, too. Thanks for reading!


	8. Surrogate

**CHAPTER 7: SURROGATE**

**(Gohan's POV)**

My favorite part of the day was always the beginning. Watching dawn break over the horizon and feeling the crisp morning breeze sweep over me... It was the closest I ever came to being at peace. But that wasn't why I loved it so much.

Another morning meant another full day of training with Piccolo, for which I was intensely thankful. It meant getting out of the house and away from my somber mother. It meant a distraction. A nice, day-long distraction.

"Where are you off to, Gohan?" my mom asked, catching me before I could fly out the door. I grimaced; thankfully, my back was turned against her.

"Training with Mr. Piccolo… You said I could take a few weeks off homework, remember?" I said. I know she remembered, but I felt compelled to remind her nevertheless.

"Right. I know that, honey. Dinner's at six… Please be careful."

We had a variation of this conversation almost every morning, ever since she let me off the hook for schoolwork. She just didn't have the energy to teach me anymore, or the money to pay someone else to do it for her. I knew I was taking advantage of it, and of her, but staying home was worse than the accompanying guilt.

"I will. Love ya, Mom."

As I sped off, I heard her cry out faintly in the distance, asking me to invite Piccolo for dinner. I laughed. Kami knows that Piccolo would never agree to that.

***

"You're not trying, Gohan. If I were a real enemy, you'd be completely disarmed by now."

Piccolo's harsh words found their way to my ears and I cursed under my breath. "I _am_ trying, but you're using almost your full strength! I can't keep up!"

"You can expect all future opponents to use their full strength against you. I am no different." He folded his arms across his chest and stared me down. I met his gaze with a fierce glare of my own, but I probably didn't look very intimidating with my full brow of sweat and blood, and my torn up training gi.

"You _are_ different. You're my friend!" I persisted. "And we're not battling, we're training!"

"_Training_. That's the key word, Gohan. I am training you for real battles, and they're not all going to be easy. Don't be foolish."

I sighed and let my legs give out beneath me. I fell into the grass with a thud, but the tension dissipated slowly as I began to relax my tired limbs. Twelve hours had passed, and I was already an hour late for dinner. My stomach grumbled stubbornly on cue.

"My dad was never this hard on me. I guess you waited for him to die to show your true colors," I muttered, immediately regretting the words as they left my mouth.

Fortunately, Piccolo just chuckled. "Yeah, kid. Leaving you to fend for yourself in the wilderness when you were a toddler is a cakewalk in comparison to this," he said, using his well cultivated sarcastic voice. "You have no idea how many times I rescued you back then."

I grumbled under my breath and crossed my arms, like an obstinate toddler all over again. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say."

Piccolo turned, and his long cloak swept over me, brushing against my face. I figured that meant it was time to call it a day.

"You should get home now, Gohan. Your mother is worried," he said, rising into the air in preparation for our short flight. I followed automatically, flying directly behind him, focusing on the tearing sound his clothes made as the fabric whipped fiercely through the air. I used a free moment to gaze downward, searching the ground for nothing in particular--just something to look at, something to do, like save an injured animal, maybe find Icarus, or pick a fight I could actually win. But all was quiet as dusk approached. It was serene; the wind was still, and even the songbirds had retired for the night. Piccolo and I were the only disturbance for miles. The impact of our speed kicked up dust and rustled leaves as we sped along.

Barely minutes later, we landed a few hundred feet from my house. Piccolo was right--my mom _was_ worried. She was practically sending out telepathic worry vibes.

"Get inside, Gohan, before she comes out here looking for you," Piccolo instructed. He was restless, and I knew he wanted to avoid turning down another dinner invitation. Mom didn't understand that he just didn't _need_ to eat...

"I'm going! Jeez," I said, inching forward, then rocking back on my heels. "Maybe she's asleep? I might wake her up..."

Piccolo groaned... Or was it a growl? I could never really tell with him, but I knew he wasn't happy. "Do I have to drag you back home? _Again_?" he said pointedly. I cringed. He knew I hated coming home. I couldn't hide my feelings from him, so I didn't bother to try. He saw right through me every time I lied or downplayed my emotions. It was a dangerous bond for him--the fact that our friendship was so open meant I had more leverage over him than he was comfortable with.

"It's cool. I'm going now." I took a few long strides towards my house. "See?"

He wouldn't be satisfied until I was inside. Every night, he made a point of getting me home once we finished training. He thought I was going to run away, but I couldn't fathom any other place I might retreat to that would make me feel any different, or any better. His precautions were unnecessary.

"Tomorrow? Same time, same place?" I asked as my hand closed around the front door handle.

Piccolo just nodded, turned swiftly, and was gone before I had a chance to blink. It was much darker now, and I couldn't see which direction he went. He masked his chi when he wasn't training, mostly so nobody could find him. He always did enjoy his privacy.

My foot was barely in the door before Mom overcame me.

"GOHAN, WHERE WERE YOU?"

She was standing in the doorway outside of the kitchen in her ever-present apron, both hands on her hips, and unrelenting fury in her eyes.

"Mom, I--"

"NO! Gohan, this is unacceptable behavior! Dinner was more than an hour ago! Do you understand how hard it is for me to even _get_ food on the table? And now it's cold, stale, _wasted_! Why do I even bother?"

"Mom, stop exaggerating! Grandpa gives us money for food--"

"YOUR GRANDPA SHOULDN'T HAVE TO GIVE MONEY TO US! I SHOULD HAVE A HUSBAND WHO SUPPORTS ME AND MY CHILD, BUT I _DON'T_! ALL I HAVE IS A DELINQUENT SON AND A DEAD MARRIAGE WITH NOTHING TO SHOW FOR IT!" she yelled, and I felt my ears pop uncomfortably from the audible assault.

I said nothing and stayed in place, with one foot inside the house and the other foot outside, ready to make a run for it if she decided to scream accusations again. Apparently, missing dinner made me a delinquent now. This was one of the many reasons I avoided home.

After a few tension-filled seconds, my mom took a deep, calming breath and spoke again, this time in a more controlled yet quaky voice, "Your father is dead. It's time for you to step into his shoes, Gohan. No more training sessions with Piccolo. You... You need to get a job."

I gaped. "A job? Dad never even had a job!"

She looked away and shrugged. She was done with her tirade for the night, but I was just getting started.

"Mom, who the heck is gonna hire a kid? It's not even _legal_!"

She turned and walked back into the kitchen. "Someone will," I heard her say, followed by the sound of running water as she busied herself with the dishes. Mom got lost in her housework; I trained for hours straight without a break. We all needed our distractions. And at that moment, I needed another one.

I hesitated in the doorway for a few seconds before I made my decision and stepped back outside into the cool, quiet night, slamming the door behind me. I had approximately five seconds before Mom came back into the living room and realized I was gone. I had to move fast.

Five, four, three, two, one...

"GOHAN!!!"

By the time I heard her yell, I was already in the air, and it didn't take long for my tiny house to fade into the distance.

***

There was only one place for me to go: the same vast woods I spent in months of preparation before Nappa and Vegeta arrived. I knew this area well enough to find a decent place to sleep, but food was my top priority. My stomach was becoming more and more restless by the second, and I deeply regretted leaving a full plate of food to spoil on my dining room table back home. What I wouldn't give to get that cold plate back...

The problem with hunting at night was that only the truly dangerous creatures were awake at this time. Of course, they were more dangerous to me when I was younger than they were to me now. Since I left these woods, I had fought the Saiyans, traveled to Namek, battled with Frieza and his men, and watched my own father die. Yes, I could survive a night or two out in the wilderness without much trouble. Or so I thought.

A shadow moving in the distance caught my attention, and I locked on it immediately from my hiding spot up in the trees. As I waited for my eyes to recognize the shadow, I realized that whatever it was was moving _fast_, like it was running away from something. Another predator, perhaps? But the only thing it had to worry about in these woods was me.

I knew by the shape and approximate weight that it was a dino, and a particularly speedy one at that. I stayed on its tail as it galloped through the forest, turning down bushes and knocking over trees as it went, subsequently paving my way. I could have caught it at any second, but part of me wanted the thrill of the chase, and another part of me was curious to see where it was running to... Or what it was running _from_.

My stomach growled again, and I latched onto the creature's tail, ready to make the kill. The creature cried out in surprise and fear as it came to an abrupt halt. I struggled to stay on its back through the impact of the sudden stop, but I slipped off the side of its flank and rolled underneath it. I remained still for an eternity, waiting, waiting for something to happen, but I did not move my body. I laid directly beneath its smooth belly.

The dino lurched forward, ready to bolt again, and trampled over me in the process. I felt its tough, calloused hoof come down on my chest followed by the nauseating sound of crunching bones. My bones. The creature immediately took off, running just as frantically as before, and left my broken body behind it.

The pain was overwhelming. It pierced my senses and pervaded every thought except one: I was going to die. In that moment, I knew it with absolute certainty. This wasn't the same pain that normally accompanied broken bones; I could handle broken bones. No, this pain was something else. Something deep. Permanent. Final.

I gasped for air, but my breathing was ragged, labored. At least one of my lungs had collapsed. If both had been punctured, I didn't have much time left. Any human would have been dead on impact, but the Saiyan half of me refused to die quietly. I wished I was human. A human death was merciful and quick. My Saiyan genes were too resistant to accept such a death.

Through the mask of the pain, I became acutely aware of the ground shaking beneath me and the thundering noise of approaching hooves. Whatever that dinosaur had been running from was catching up, and I did not want to stick around and risk another trampling. I rolled over and dragged my weak body across the dirt by digging my fingernails into the ground and pulling myself forward, inch by excruciating inch. Every movement felt like a new bone breaking, but I had to move away from the path carved out by the raging dino.

There was a cave opening nearby, and I crawled towards it, eager to get as far away from the path as my body would allow. I clutched onto patches of grass and rocks, using nature as my leverage and throwing all the strength my arms could muster into dragging along my useless torso. Finally, I reached the mouth of the cave, and the cold rock floor was soothing against my burning chest. The pain was still there, but it had since spread to my throat as I desperately gulped for air. Something nearby omitted a wheezing sound, and it took a few moments before I realized that something was me. I was losing touch with reality and starting to feel detached from my body. The upside was that the pain was subsiding; the downside, of course, was that I was close to death.

When animals are ready to die, they usually find a dark, quiet, undisturbed place to spend their last living moments. I couldn't help draw the comparison as I lay sprawled across the ground, taking quick, shallow breaths, counting down the seconds. I tried to raise my chi, but I was beyond the ability to power up. Nobody would find me here, and even if they could sense my energy signal, they had no reason to suppose I was in trouble. Only someone previously attuned to my chi would notice the sudden change as it dropped off the radar, and the only person who ever kept tabs on me was dead. As for flying, that was out of the question; I couldn't even stand.

Death was creeping up on me, but there was no fear, only a twinge of pain and the burning sensation in my throat as I tried to breathe. I felt relieved knowing that this wasn't something I could fight. The decision was made for me. My role in this situation was simply to stay still and wait for the end.

I started to wonder why I allowed the dinosaur to overcome me. Why didn't I just kill it on sight or fly after it instead of running behind it? I had plenty of time to scramble out from underneath the creature before it crushed my chest, but I stayed in place, practically begging for it to kill me. Did I have a death wish? No, not a death wish; I just wanted to see my dad again. Death was the only vehicle by which that goal could be attained. If death brought me to my father, then death was my only choice.

This thought comforted me--the knowledge that it wouldn't be long now before I saw him again. As my eyelids drooped and the darkness closed in around me, I could almost hear his voice again, calling my name…

"Gohan," he said. "Wake up, Gohan. You're not dead yet."

_But Father, I'm ready. I want to see you…_

"It's not time. Our friends are going to need your help. Please hold on."

_I can't… I can't do it… It's over…_

"Hold on, kid. I got you."

This voice did not belong to my father; it was louder, more tangible, and very familiar.

"Here, take this," it said, and I felt something drop into my mouth. Everything clicked into place at once. A senzu bean. I chewed on it slowly, savoring the euphoric sensation that spread throughout my body as the bean did its work. My throat stopped burning and the pain in my chest ceased completely--only a pleasant tingling feeling remained where my ribs were once cracked. I opened my eyes to see Piccolo's stern face staring back at me, my rejuvenated body propped up beneath his arms.

"Are you okay?" he asked; his voice still had a concerned edge, and I nodded to alleviate his worry.

Suddenly, Piccolo's arms, which had been cradling my limp body as it recovered, vanished from beneath me and my back hit the ground with a loud thud.

"OW!" I cried as I propped myself back up on my elbows. "A little heads up would have been nice!"

Piccolo was now standing upright, his figure looming over me, his silhouette barely visible. I could hardly make his face out in the darkness, but I knew he was angry.

"What were you doing out here, Gohan?" he pressed. I got to my feet and dusted off my raggedy training gi.

"I was just... Going for a walk," I replied lamely, and I fought the urge to stare down at my feet. However, I kept my eyes locked on his face, unwilling to disrespect him by appearing aloof.

"Going for a walk," he repeated. "And when during this walk did you manage to break every single bone in your body?"

"That's an exaggeration! It was mostly my... ribs..." I trailed off. It wasn't the specific broken bones that mattered; it was the fact that I had almost killed myself.

"Look, I'm sorry, I just..." I tried searching his face for any sign that said I was allowed to walk away from this without properly explaining myself, but I saw none. Piccolo didn't even need to say anything--his condemning gaze did all the work for him. It made me want to spill my guts.

"I couldn't go home, don't you get it? She's... Mom is _impossible_ to live with, and I... I mean, you should have heard what she told me! She wants me to get a job, it's crazy! She..."

I stopped myself. It wasn't her. It wasn't her at all. It was me. _I_ was impossible to live with. I was the one who couldn't move on. Instead, I just chose to stay in place, refusing to break my training ritual with Piccolo, never stopping to consider the future or the consequences of any of my actions. I was in the wrong, and Piccolo knew it. My mom knew it, too. She was just trying to get me to react...

"She wanted to make me angry," I said, more to myself than to Piccolo. "That's why she suggested the job." She knew that the fear of breaking my routine would throw me into this spiral, and she wanted me to see it for myself. What I was. A shell.

"Do you understand, Gohan?" Piccolo asked.

I nodded slowly. "Yes," I said. "I've been... gone."

"You have. And it shouldn't take a near-death experience to make you see that," he said.

"I know. I... I let that dinosaur trample me. I saw it coming, I was fast enough to get away, strong enough to stop it, but I just let it happen. I didn't want to die, but I didn't care if I lived anymore..."

It came out of nowhere--a fist. Piccolo's fist, driving into the side of my skull. He only clipped me across the cheek, but there was such force behind it that I sprawled backwards out of the cave and into a clearing.

"What was that for?" I shouted, instinctively crouching back in a defensive position. Piccolo stood adjacent to me in the clearing, his turban and cloak discarded. He was prepping for battle.

"Show me you don't want to live," he said.

Piccolo sped forward, phasing in and out of view, barely giving me time to gather my own strength as he engaged me. The first kick caught me underneath my newly-healed ribs and knocked the air out of my lungs for the second time that night. I blocked another kick with my knee, then aimed a punch at his face. He caught my fist in his palm and pushed me backward, leaving several feet of space between us again. He disappeared from sight, but I felt around for his energy signal and scrambled out of the way just in time as he phased in behind me and shot a small chi blast at my exposed back. It soared by me and singed the hanging branches from a nearby tree before impacting against a large rock, crushing it to pebbles.

So he meant business. That was clear enough. But what was the goal of this lesson? How could I fight for my life when I knew he would never actually try to hurt me?

"Are you going to fight back?" Piccolo asked. "Or just stand there staring for the rest of the night?"

He didn't give me a chance to reply; he rushed me again and landed an uppercut to my chin, causing me to bite down _hard_ on my tongue. I soared a few feet into the air and caught myself mid-flight. A trail of blood trickled down from the corner of my mouth. Did this assault have no end?

I didn't want to fight back, but the immeasurable anger, the deep-rooted Saiyan rage within was peaked and rising. My body was in defensive mode, my senses wired for survival. Now it was time to go on the offensive.

I let Piccolo rush at me again, but phased out quickly before he could reach me. I reappeared behind him as my foot connected with the small of his back, forcing him to lurch forward as a sickening crack echoed around us. I didn't break a bone, but the blow temporarily paralyzed him, paving the way for further damage. My fists struck every weak point in his body, and he was powerless to defend himself. He would be unconscious in seconds if he didn't gather the strength to fight back in time.

Finally, Piccolo regained full control of his body and artfully blocked one of my punches while using his free hand to form a chi ball aimed for my chest. It connected instantly, knocking me back several feet and further cauterizing my already ruined training gi. Even my mother would have trouble patching this one up.

My Saiyan rage was nearing its maximum potential, and in a purely instinctual move to defeat my enemy--for Piccolo had become, if only for that moment, my enemy--I focused my power on one singular point and gathered the chi necessary for a final attack. Piccolo sensed my energy spike and mirrored my intentions. We were evenly matched--I could feel what little difference there was in power level between us dissipate as we each unleashed the full force of our strength.

The air crackled with electricity where our chi beams met. I pushed harder, focusing every ounce of energy I had into sustaining the blast and overcoming his. Sweat poured from every orifice in my body, and the force of the energy pushed me back slowly. I dug my feet deeper into the ground to reinforce my footing, my heel kicking up dirt as I receded. Piccolo was struggling, too; my blast was quickly gaining momentum, and in a blinding flash of brilliant ultraviolet light, I overtook my enemy. The energy washed over him and sent him rocketing unceremoniously into the outside wall of the cave. He dropped to the ground with a thump and slumped over.

My anger quickly subsided, only to be replaced with distress. "Piccolo!" I cried, rushing to his side. "Piccolo? Piccolo! Are you okay?"

He didn't respond; his head bobbed to the side as he lost consciousness. Frantically, I felt around in the dark for his discarded turban and cloak and found the little pouch of senzu beans he usually kept with him at all times. His mouth was slack, so I fed him a bean and used my hands to manually open and close his mouth for him to elicit chewing. Soon, he was able to do it on his own, and once the bean was properly digested he regained consciousness and sat up.

It took him a few moments to gather his bearings, but then he looked at me and smirked. "Looks like you do have the will to live."

I smiled back, both from relief and gratitude. His lessons were almost as invaluable to me as his friendship.

"Apparently," I said. I offered my hand to help him up, but he didn't accept it. He rose to his feet, towering over me as he always did, and donned his turban and cloak once again.

"It's time for you to go home, Gohan. _Really_," he said after taking a few seconds to adjust himself. I nodded.

"Okay, but... I still want to know one thing," I said. "How did you find me?"

Piccolo didn't look like he was expecting my question, but he replied as if the answer should be obvious. "I was tracking you. Your chi disappeared. This forest was the last place I sensed you, so I came here and followed your scent to that cave."

I let the surprise register on my face. "_You're_ tracking me? But I thought... I didn't think anyone was watching me, not since Dad..."

"Kid," Piccolo said. "You've been on my radar since you were in diapers, I just never had to save your ass until now. That used to be Goku's job."

With that, he took to the sky, and I followed as usual, dwelling on his words as flew towards my house. Piccolo was watching out for me. The thought was comforting... Soothing. It meant I wasn't alone in the world, a solitary warrior destined to die in battle, the sort of death my father should have had. I didn't have my dad any more, but Piccolo was here, ready to act as his surrogate, at least where my welfare was concerned.

I sped forward so that he and I were flying side-by-side, and when I looked ahead I noticed the first shining semblance of daylight peak out from the distance.

I followed the sun as it broke over the horizon line, so quickly that if I looked away I was sure it would rise without me. The sky was on fire with hundreds of brilliant colors, and my eyes were glued in place, struck by the beauty of it. I wondered briefly if Piccolo noticed how breathtaking the sunrise was, or if he had ever been affected by it the same way it affected me. He remained silent as he flew beside me, but his eyes seemed to look beyond the horizon, not towards the spectacle itself. No, the sunrise didn't affect him at all. He was hardly looking at it. I had it all to myself.

But It wasn't the orange and purple hues or the crisp morning breeze or even the sound of stirring animals that moved me--it was the concept itself. A new day. A new day beginning, signaling the end of yesterday and every day before it. It wouldn't be too long now before those days ran out--those days I had left until I saw my father again. It was getting closer. I could feel it. _That day_. Would the sunrise be as beautiful then as it was every other morning? Would it be even more brilliant? Would I even notice it?

Questions like these haunted me thanks to one singular and morbid thought. It was a constant, nagging presence: impending death. I had a taste of it that night, but it was only a sampling, a savory morsel of what was to come. I wasn't ready for it yet, but every passing day brought me closer to that moment. Piccolo would keep trying to protect me from it, but he couldn't deny that it was coming. Five years? Ten years? How many new days were left for me? I didn't know, and I didn't want to know--I wanted to live almost as much as I wanted to die, and I _would_ live. For Piccolo. For Mom. For Dad.

Until then, I would continue to cherish every new day, every sunrise, waiting for _that_ day to come. Until then, I had Piccolo.

***

**A/N:** Man, I enjoyed writing this chapter. Let's hope you enjoyed reading it! By the way, if you haven't noticed, this story jumps ahead in time a lot… Obviously I can't detail every single moment of the characters' lives post-Goku. Each chapter is a glimpse into important/life-altering events. This chapter, for example, is set about three months after Goku's funeral. Next chapter will be Bulma's POV... Expect some heavy Bulma/Vegeta stuff, and by heavy, I mean the kind of content only mature adults should read. I'm not a big fan of going full lemon though, it'll be more lime-y than anything, though still not appropriate for everyone. This story's "M" rating is more for graphically violent content planned for future chapters rather than sexual elements, but I still have to cover all my bases. What's a good story without sex, anyway? ... Pretend I didn't say that.


	9. Abandon

**CHAPTER 9: ABANDON**

**(Bulma's POV)**

_It was one of those dreams. I knew I was dreaming, but somehow I was still trapped in the nightmare, at the mercy of my own subconscious._

_I was back in the clearing, where Frieza had tried to attack me. This time I was running not only for my own life, but for the life of my unborn child. I scanned my surroundings desperately, waiting for Vegeta to save me again. But it was only Frieza and I for miles, and he was stalking me, toying with me because he knew I could not outrun him. He didn't see me as a defenseless pregnant woman; I was nothing but a minor annoyance, a distraction._

_I stopped running and turned to meet my attacker head-on, despite the impossibility of survival. As Frieza approached, his cold half-metal body morphed into a muscled, fleshy form, and his alien features were replaced by more human-like qualities. His rigid, spiky hair and coal-black eyes were unmistakable._

_"Vegeta, thank Kami you're here!" I said, but he wore the same murderous expression as Frieza. He said nothing as he leaned forward and closed his hands around my neck…_

I woke abruptly. My body was shaking from the stress of the dream, and I wiped a thin layer of sweat from my forehead. I ran my hands over my flat stomach, breathing a deep sigh of relief. I felt silly, but for a millisecond I half expected to find a giant pregnant belly beneath the comforter.

It was a very warm night. So far that summer we had seen particularly harsh weather, and the heat refused to let up. Frustrated, I pushed the blankets off the bed and spread my bare-skinned body out over the full length of the mattress. I was used to it by now, but it always stung a little when I woke up and realized I was alone. He always left before the sun even had a chance to break over the horizon.

A mild breeze washed over me from where the balcony doors had been left ajar. He left them open_ again_. I told myself it was because he was a careless bastard, but perhaps he did it knowing the breeze would cool me down, even if the air was dry and balmy. There was no telling with him.

I glanced at my alarm clock; it was just past three in the morning, and I could hear the gravity room's distinct droning from the other side of the compound. I wondered if he ever got tired, or if he just stubbornly toiled through the fatigue. He certainly showed no signs of exhaustion during our nightly encounters.

I laughed to myself, recalling the vivid memory of my first so-called encounter with Vegeta. Yamcha was only an afterthought to me now. I felt so disconnected from him that when a mutual friend called me and sorrowfully explained that she had seen him fooling around with some skinny blonde at a nightclub, I just shrugged it off.

After Goku died, everything else fell into the realm of triviality. Yamcha was cheating on me? So what. I was sleeping with one of the most morally skewed people on the planet? Who cares. My outlook on life grew increasingly aloof, and I blocked out things like guilt and doubt. It was so much easier that way.

My tryst with Vegeta had all started with a crush. A stupid little crush that seemed to develop out of nowhere. Maybe it was because he was the most interesting person I knew. He was, after all, an alien. Sometimes his lack of knowledge about Earth was endearingly child-like. Sometimes he drove me insane with his incessant bickering. I never denied my basic physical attraction for him, but it took me months to realize I actually_ liked_ him. For someone like me, a logical thinker, a veritable genius, falling for Vegeta was the most unreasonable thing I had ever done. It was exciting, and it was dangerous. It didn't make sense, but nothing did. And I was almost happy again.

I can't pinpoint the exact moment I decided to actively pursue him, but I started dressing more provocatively than necessary. Sometimes I would not see him for days, but I was always prepared, grasping for attention. He made me feel like an insecure schoolgirl. I never expected compliments or verbal acknowledgements of any kind, but I thought I could at least read it on his face. Nothing ever registered behind those dark eyes. He was always guarded, and when he didn't look menacing, he just looked bored. I began to wonder if he found me attractive at all, until that first night…

I was up later than usual, buried in a good fiction book for once. It was nice to get away from research papers and scientific dissertations every once in a while. Sudden, violent banging on my balcony door startled me so much that I almost fell down the side of the bed.

"Damnit. Vegeta!" I groaned, sliding out from underneath the covers and trudging over to the balcony. I drew the curtains back and saw him standing there, arms crossed, trademark scowl and all. He was sweaty and his spandex was all torn up, and I worried briefly that he had blown up the gravity room again. The first time nearly killed him. Then I realized I surely would have heard it.

I pulled the doors back with more force than necessary. "What can I do for you, _your highness_?" I said.

He glared back at me, but there was a slight smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "What do you think?" he asked.

"Not tonight, please! I was just getting settled into bed. You're not royalty on this planet, you know! You're not entitled to twenty-four hour service!"

He shrugged. "Fine," was all he said. He was fully smirking now.

"Is that… it?" I asked, incredulous. Suddenly self-conscious, I looked down at my bedroom attire. I wasn't wearing anything that could be considered revealing or embarrassing. What was he smiling about?

"Vegeta, I don't have the patience for your games right now. Do you need me to fix the gravity room or what?"

"Games?" he said, with a touch of venom in his voice. "An interesting accusation, coming from you. You seem to be an expert at playing games. You should know that your intentions are painfully obvious."

"What are you talking about?" I said, astonished and confused. My mouth hung open stupidly. The back of my neck was getting hot, and the heat was traveling up to my ears and cheeks. I must have been blushing like an idiot.

He stepped forward, and I was forced to step back a few inches into my bedroom to keep a reasonable amount of distance between our bodies. He moved closer to catch up to me, but I stayed in place this time. His toned body pressed up against mine, and I was immediately overcome with his potent musk. My toes curled and I gasped loudly as his calloused hands found my hips.

"Isn't this what you want?" he asked. His piercing gaze bore into me. I was so embarrassed I almost looked away. It wasn't like me to lose my cool, but my legs were threatening to give out. I was suddenly overwhelmed with yearning, but still too insecure to move.

He didn't need my verbal confirmation, but he did hesitate slightly when he cocked his head to the side and pressed his lips to mine. It wasn't forceful, as I would have imagined. Our lips brushed lightly. I wondered how long he had gone without intimate contact, and I suspected he wasn't used to being gentle.

He gained more confidence when I did not resist, and he deepened the kiss as he ran his hands down my back, over my stomach and chest, and pressed his firm body closer to mine. I was starting to remember how to function properly, and my fingers dug underneath his spandex shirt. He broke the kiss to remove it himself, and he kicked off his boots as he pushed me back, guiding me towards the bed. He was clearly in control, and I abandoned any thoughts of taking the reins from him.

I sat on the edge of the bed and watched him remove his spandex shorts, trying to keep my eyes on his face. I was about to follow his example, but he advanced on me, practically ripping my tank top and shorts in half. My body was on fire wherever he touched me, and I could tell he was holding back so much of his strength. I leaned back on my elbows and he mounted me, pushing me further back on the bed. His body smothered mine, and his skin was so hot it was almost alarming. He kissed me again, harder this time, and he lifted my body slightly off the bed, where his hands began to slowly massage the small of my back. I moaned against his lips, and he chuckled.

"What's funny?" I said.

"Shut up, woman," he snapped back. I could sense his eagerness, and I could feel how ready he was. We were on the same page, for once. I bucked up against him, and this had the satisfying consequence of making him growl, though he tried to bite it back. We locked eyes, and I was dismayed that he managed to keep himself guarded, even now. I saw a hint of desire in his expression, nothing else. My disappointment was fleeting, and soon the intensity of the moment consumed me.

Before long, I collapsed on the bed beside him, completely sated. My breathing was labored; he did not look phased, but he was just as sweat-drenched as I was. I gasped when I noted the time; had it really been more than half an hour? We both remained quiet, unmoving, and eventually I fell asleep. He was gone when I woke up the next morning, and that pattern continued for weeks.

The memory was still fresh in my mind, but since then I had several similar encounters to reflect upon. And he was still driving me crazy, in every possible way. As I drifted back to sleep, I could still hear the gravity room buzzing, and the tireless man inside occupied my dreams for the remainder of the night.

...

Now when I saw Vegeta on the compound, he usually ignored me, unless he was demanding food or, of course, forcing me to fix something he broke. I think he felt vulnerable around me, but I never felt comfortable enough to ask how he felt. He wasn't like Yamcha at all; he didn't stay in bed with me, cuddling and chatting. I never expected that from him. I couldn't shake the feeling that he was somehow ashamed because he was "mating" with a human. He was all about his purebred Saiyan ancestry, and I was a black mark on his record. This thought consumed me for hours at a time, and it brought with it an intense bitterness. I was more unpleasant towards him now than ever before, and my mood swings were becoming more difficult to control. And to top it off, I constantly felt nauseous...

The day he left started out like any other routine day. He found me in my lab. I grabbed my toolbox almost instinctively.

"What did you do this time?" I said. He didn't answer right away. He was looking over his shoulder and peering around the lab, searching for something.

"There's nobody else here. My parents are at a business luncheon," I said, realizing the suggestiveness of my statement. Vegeta had an unfathomable look on his face. He walked up to me, still with the same unreadable expression, and put his hand against my stomach. I didn't know whether to be creeped out or turned on.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

He cursed under his breath and met my gaze. "I'm leaving," he said.

I sighed. "Okay. See you tonight?"

He shook his head. "Not what I meant. I'm leaving this pitiful planet. Your gravity machine doubles as a spaceship, is that correct?"

I barely processed his words. "You're leaving... ? Why?" My chest swelled with sudden emotion, and my heart rate spiked. I think my reaction surprised us both.

"I don't owe you an explanation," he said, annoyed. He noted the tears forming in the corners of my eyes. "If you must know, I am going into space, to train."

I felt relieved. "Alright. Okay. How long are you going for?"

"Indefinitely."

"But... but what about...?" I sputtered. I was about to say _me_, but I stopped myself, and let the implication linger.

"Don't make the mistake of thinking you have any influence over my decisions," he spat back. "The only thing that has changed between us is that now I know what kind of woman you are."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I jumped from sorrow to anger in an instant. "What are you saying?"

"You're a genius. Figure it out."

He turned and headed for the exit, and I followed him outside. "You can't just say something like that and leave! Don't ignore me, Vegeta! Damnit!" I caught up to him and shoved myself against his back, attempting to get him to turn around and face me. It worked; he turned, and his expression was blank, not furious like I had expected. Fury would have been preferable; he was guarded and empty again.

"It's not healthy for a woman in your condition to act this way," he said, catching my wrist before I could hit him again.

"Oh? And just what exactly is my condition?"

He didn't answer. Instead he leaned forward and crushed his lips against mine, a goodbye kiss for which I was unprepared. I pushed his chest away to break the kiss, and he didn't resist.

"I hate you," I said. It was the only thing I could think of to say; I wanted to hurt him, but I had no ammunition. He held all the cards, as usual.

"You will," he said cryptically, before disappearing inside the gravity room. I stood back, giving him sufficient room for take off. There was no stopping him at that point. The ship roared to life and immediately lifted off the ground.

As I watched it disappear into the cloudless blue sky, I didn't know if Vegeta would ever return. His absence was hard for me to handle, and I dreamed of him coming back almost nightly from that moment onwards. I was jumping to conclusions, of course. He returned soon after his son was born. But someday I would have to say goodbye to him all over again, and I knew that next time it happened, there was no coming back.

...

**A/N:** I'm back! Sorry for bypassing some of the traditional B/V stuff, but I wanted to spare you guys the usual beginnings of their get-together and just thrust you into the middle of it, for the sake of pacing the story. I look at most of the chapters as standalone mini stories. In regards to the limey-ness of this chapter, I really think it's just crude to detail every little sexual act and body part, so the vagueness was intentional.

Also, I was reading through my chapters and noticed that the little dividers I put in between sections of the chapters have all gone missing! I'm not sure why the *** disappeared, but I'm concerned that is disrupts the flow of the chapters, so I may go through and fix that at some point…

Thanks to everyone who has reviewed during my long absence. The reviews are what motivated me to start writing again. I really love this story and I still want to give it my best shot. Thanks for reading!


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